


The Feeling You Took With You

by sourink



Category: Free!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Background Relationships, F/M, Firefighter Tachibana Makoto, M/M, Multi, Reunions, Slow Build, Years Later, background Sourin - Freeform, single dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 202,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourink/pseuds/sourink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Makoto Haru remembers would have run up and pulled him into a hug by now, but this one stands his ground. The smile is real though, and unflinching. Haru lets himself be satisfied with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Haru looks down at the scrap of paper in his hand for the third time and checks it against the numbers he could see on the house he was standing in front of. For the third time, it matches. He sighs as he shoves it back in his pocket. Even though it was already evening, the sun continued to beam cheerily on. Haru would have preferred rain. He glances, for the third time, at the name plaque on the little stone pillar by the driveway. For the third time, it proudly proclaims a Tachibana Makoto and Mariko living there. Haru bites his lip. He doesn't like the feeling of unease the second name leaves in his stomach. Mariko. He sighs. Mariko- _san_ , he should probably say. He passes the bakery bag to his other hand, hesitating. Rin warned him about coming empty handed, that _Mariko-san_ insisted on gifts, but wouldn't give him any idea of what to actually bring. In the end, he had gone with a pastry box from his favorite bakery. It felt heavy in his hands. He groaned and let his head fall back on his shoulders. What would he even say? It had been eight years since he and Makoto had really talked. Maybe he should just go home. He could eat the pastries himself.

 "Excuse me, did you need some directions?" comes a smooth voice behind him. Haru sucks in a breath. He forgets how to exhale it.

 "Um, are you okay?" the voice asks gently. It's not exactly how he remembers it, but Haru's spent too much of his life listening for that one voice for him to ever forget it. He forces his face to relax, and slowly turns around. He stands there, towering really, in a simple flannel button up and some jeans that have definitely seen better days, small stack of mail in a large tan hand. Haru swallows despite himself. Makoto has impossibly gotten even taller since the last time he saw him. His hair is cropped close to his head, the same fluffy teddy bear brown as always. But it's his eyes that draw Haru in, especially without his usual fringe to get in the way. They flicker from concern to shock to what Haru sincerely hopes is joy.

 " _Haruka_? Is that you?" His smile is dazzling. Haru can't breathe. He focuses on trying to return a smile of his own, but he's not sure if he quite makes it. The Makoto Haru remembers would have run up and pulled him into a hug by now, but this one stands his ground. The smile is real though, and unflinching. Haru lets himself be satisfied with that.

 "Hey," he says, voice coming out rougher than he intended. He doesn't say the usual 'it's been a while' line. Doesn't want to remind Makoto that he's the reason for it. "You got taller," he says instead. Makoto laughs and Haru feels himself relaxing, small smile forming on his lips without him.

 "Did you come all the way here to tell me that?" More laughter. _Ah, Makoto's joking, maybe he's not mad at me after all_ , Haru thinks to himself.

 "Well, you'd better come inside then. I'm not letting you get away with just that," Makoto flashes another smile at him, leading him up the stone steps that led up to his house. Haru doesn't hesitate to follow him.

 Makoto opens the unlocked door, and holds it open for Haru to slip in. Makoto kicks off the ugliest pair of brown leather work boots Haru's ever seen before leading him around the corner into the kitchen. Haru slips off his perfectly normal shoes and sets them neatly next to Makoto's tossed monstrosities. When he makes it around the kitchen, Makoto is already filling a kettle with water. Haru gives himself a moment to steal a couple looks around. The kitchen is a good size. It's modern with warm hard woods and soft white stone counters and floor. There's a breakfast bar that looks out into what must be a living room, and a solid wooden table and chair set into a windowed alcove. It's a beautiful house, Haru decides, but something feels off. He can't quite put his finger on it. The popping of the starter on the stove snaps him out of it. Makoto grins at him when he turns around.

 "Have a seat Haru. Do you want tea or coffee? I might have juice, not sure.." Haru obediently pulls a chair out and sits at the table. _Since when do you drink coffee?_ Haru wants to ask.

 "Tea's fine," he says instead. "I brought you this," he says a moment later, nearly forgetting to offer the bakery bag up to Makoto.

 "You didn't have to bring me anything," Makoto says, just a hint of a whine intersecting the warmth.

 "It was no trouble.." Haru looks away.

 "If you're sure.. Thank you, Haru." Haru doesn't answer, favoring the window instead.

 "It's good to see you." Haru just nods. He can't face him now, and see the nostalgia in those big green eyes. Mercifully, he doesn't have to. Makoto moves to take the kettle off just before it whistles, and busies himself with their drinks. He sits down across from Haru a moment later, sliding a mug of tea across to him. Haru accepts it with a quiet thank you. Makoto's coffee looks pitch black.

 "Ma-" he stops and swiftly brings his eyes to his lap. Was it even still okay for him to call him by his first name? The thought makes him sick.

 "I'm going to keep calling you Haru, if that's okay?" Haru's looking back up at Makoto and nodding before he can finish the sentence.

 "So keep calling me Makoto, okay?" Makoto's voice is so gentle, Haru has to hide his face behind his mug. Makoto hums happily to himself as he opens the box Haru brought.

 "Wow, Haru, these look amazing," Makoto picks an eclair, and Haru watches as his eyes light up with the first bite. He lets himself smile at that, he knows exactly how good they are. Makoto slides the box towards him.

 "You have to have one, these are so good," Makoto smiles and Haru almost laughs at him. There's chocolate on his face.

 "I brought them you you, stupid.." but with Makoto's face threatening to erupt into puppy eyes, Haru has little choice. Still, he takes the smallest cream puff. The silence settles in easily around them. It's when Makoto reaches for his second pastry that Haru notices it. Makoto's hands had a smear of chocolate from the eclair, but were otherwise bare. He desperately tries to remember if he saw woman’s shoes by the door. He can't remember any. Haru looks back up at Makoto who seems oblivious to his blooming epiphany. _Where's your ring?_ Haru wants to yell. _Where's your wife?_

 "Oh my god, Haru!" Makoto looks stricken. "I just realized, you haven't even met Mariko yet! Ah, I'm such an idiot, hold on a sec I'll go get her!" Makoto shoves the last bite of his pastry in his mouth and rushes off before Haru can protest. He couldn't tell him he doesn't want to meet her, that he already hates Mariko- _san_ , anyway. He thinks about the last time he had agreed to a dinner with Nagisa and the others. After a while, all they could talk about was Macchan this and Macchan that.

 "Macchan is so sweet Haru-chan!" Nagisa had told him.

 "Yeah, she'd probably even like a grump like Haru," Rin had added. Haru glared at him.

 "And she's pretty cute," Sousuke had said, disinterested. Haru glared at him too.

 "Mariko is certainly beautiful," Rei said fondly.

 Haru had left dinner early. He didn't answer when Rin called him later. He heard Makoto thumping back down the stairs, and couldn't make out what he was saying. He took a gulp of his tea. It didn't help. Unconsciously, his fingers started tapping some rhythm on the table he couldn't name.

 ' _Nice to meet you, Mariko-san,'_ that was all he needed to say, right? If he could get those five words out, he could probably coast on monosyllables. Makoto would translate, he always did. _'Nice to meet you, Mariko-san'_ . The words stung in his chest and hung in his head. Should he stand? Makoto's socks appear around the corner and Haru jumps to his feet, nearly knocking his half-full mug over. He can't breathe. Makoto rounds the corner, a bundle of blankets cradled in his arms. Haru holds his breath and waits for a woman to follow. Makoto's smile is blazing. He walks right up to Haru, coming to a stop too close.

 "Haru," Makoto's voice is too gentle, too soft for Haru, waiting for his world to slip out from under him. No one's following Makoto in.

 "This is Mariko, Haru," Makoto rearranges the blankets in his arms, revealing a small mop of blond curls.

 "My daughter," Makoto beams. Haru's world inverts. He falls back down on his chair, hard. His _daughter_.

 "Are you okay?" Makoto steps closer, concern clouding his features. Mariko struggles a little and opens her eyes. They're every bit as green as her father's. She blinks owlishly at Haru, before making a noise that sounds like blowing bubbles but Haru imagines is a giggle.

 "Nice to meet you, Mariko-san," he says in a daze. More of the giggling, and even Haru can tell she's smiling. Makoto laughs with his daughter.

 "No one's called her Mariko-san since Rei," He's still laughing, and Haru can feel oxygen slowly returning to him. His friends are assholes.

 "No one told you did they? You looked like you saw a ghost!" Haru can't help but pout, just a little.

 "No, they didn't," he says curtly. No sense in denying it.

 "Aw well, that wasn't very nice of them, was it Mari?" Mariko bubbles, and Haru agrees. "Rin has been doing that to everyone. Kou punched him for it." Haru smiles at that.

 "She has a mean hook," he says. Makoto hums. Mariko tries to mimic it.

 "Hey, do you want to hold her?" _No,_ Haru does _not_ want to hold her. His fists clench at his sides. Haru has never been one for excess contact, and he certainly has never held a baby. But Makoto looks so excited and he probably owes it to him to try. That had been the whole point of him coming here, to try. He nods once.

 Makoto leans down and shows Haru how to hold her, gently slipping Mariko into Haru's arms. She's warm, Haru thinks. And light. He looks down into his little bundle, and Mariko is watching him with those eyes. She makes a sound almost like a chirp, and starts wiggling in closer to Haru. He holds his arms still, terrified.

 "You should talk to her, she loves listening to people," Makoto urges, dragging his chair around the table and sitting next to Haru. Haru looks up at him, fresh panic in his eyes. _Talk to her?_ Makoto smiles.

 "It's okay Haru, she'll listen to whatever you say," Haru looks back down at her. She's untangled one of her pudgy little arms now, and is chewing on tiny fingers. He takes a deep breath.

"Hello?" he tries. She coos encouragingly at him. "It's nice to meet you," he tries again, drawing a blank on what to say. She babbles something, still smiling. "Mariko," he says softly. She laughs out loud, high pitched and unguarded. Her little hand reaches out and touches Haru's cheek. His eyes widen and he can feel the heat rush to his face.

 "Looks like she likes you Haru," Makoto says quietly. Haru looks up at him slowly, and the face he sees stabs at his heart. It's a misty fondness, and some other emotion Haru can't place. It's gone in a flash, and Makoto's got his usual smile back. Makoto stands and goes around the other side of the breakfast bar, returning with a high chair. When he looks back up at Haru, he lets out a quick laugh.

 "You're both watching me so intently, it's just a chair," he grins. Haru glances down, and sure enough, Mariko is fixed on Makoto. She reaches out towards him as Makoto takes her back from Haru. Haru's arms fall back to his sides slowly as he watches Makoto swing her around before planting a kiss on the top of her little head, settling her into the chair.

"She looks just like you," Haru says. Every time those green eyes flash up to him, he can't help but thinking that. Makoto's watching her fondly, and he nods.

 "Yeah, I get that all the time. I wonder if her hair will darken up to match mine?" Haru shrugs.

 “How-” he stops himself again. _How do you have a daughter?_ He senses it's not a cheery subject, and he doesn't want to ruin the mood. “How old is she?” he says, settling.

 “She's ten months now. I can't believe how fast time flies,” Makoto says, smile not leaving his face, but Haru doesn't think it quite reaches his eyes. He doesn't think he's only talking about ten months.

 “Makoto,” the name feels strange in his mouth. He has to say it, if he doesn't do it now, he never will. Makoto looks back to him and waits patiently. Haru looks down at his hands. Clenches his teeth. _'When have you ever put in the same effort he does?!'_ Rin's angry voice echoes in his head. _'You have no idea what he's been through!'_ He opens his eyes, unsure of when he'd closed them. He looks back at Makoto, meeting his eyes.

 “I'm. Makoto, I'm,” he's having trouble keeping his breath even. _This is so stupid_ , he thinks. _This is Makoto I'm talking to._

 “I'm so sorry,” he blurts out, before he can lose his nerve, again. He watches Makoto's eyes widen and he can't look at him anymore. He cuts Makoto off; he can't bear to hear him consoling him through this.

“I'm sorry, Makoto. I should have.” _Been there for you through this. I should have returned your calls and texts all those years ago. How did we fall so far apart that I didn't even know you had a daughter?_ “... been better,” he settles for lamely. He's staring into the mug in his hands, unseeing.

He had tried, right?

“Haru..” he can't look at him. He can't.

 “You know, a few years ago, I probably would have yelled at you,” Haru flinches like he's been struck. He deserved that. It spoke to Makoto's impending sainthood that he even let him in the door.

“It must have been hard on you too, right?” Makoto was concerned, Haru looks up to see that same heart wrenching expression from earlier. Fondness and heartbreak, colored in shades of green. Haru notices the shadows under his eyes, and the faint sign of laugh lines around his mouth. He looks exhausted.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Haru. I'm not mad at you at all.” Makoto says, so gently, like he thinks Haru might break. Haru thinks he might anyway. His eyes feel tight. His pulse hasn't slowed down since he managed to spit out his apology.

“I'd be really happy if we could be friends again,” Makoto says. He's smiling again. Hopeful. Haru knows if he tries to speak he really will start crying, so he just nods, praying Makoto understands how happy that would make him too.

 Makoto's smile widens, and he understands.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru remembers one of the lower points in his life, and Makoto remembers one of the highlights of his.

They spend hours quietly chatting after Haru's apology. By the time the sun sets, Haru's relaxed into his second cup of tea. Mariko chirps and bubbles occasionally, and is content to be the third wheel in their conversation. He finds himself thinking that Nagisa was right.

Makoto yawns through his third cup of coffee as he feeds Mariko some green goop with an impossibly tiny spoon. Neither of them complains, and Haru thinks it's uncanny how alike they are. Of everyone he knows, Makoto's got the best disposition for children. He shudders to think how a child of Nagisa's would behave.

He's learned a lot in the few hours he's been a guest in Makoto's home. But the more they talk, it becomes increasingly apparent that Haru is been the only one to fall out of touch with him. Makoto had kept in contact from everyone from Iwatobi. He even still occasionally talked with Nitori, who Haru doesn't even remember until Makoto describes him. He had missed so much. Too much. Haru promised the guilt squeezing his chest that he won't let it happen again.

When Makoto looks like he's about to get up and make his fourth cup of coffee, Haru decides it's time to head back to his apartment.

“I should go back,” he says. Makoto frowns. He opens his mouth to say something and it turns into another yawn.

“Sorry,” Makoto smiles sheepishly. “I just got off shift this morning.” Haru nods. He can see that the coffee is the only thing keeping Makoto going. He stands and reluctantly goes to put his shoes on, Makoto follows him in with Mariko. Neither of them make eye contact as Haru stands up. He's stalling, unsure what to do next. Handshake? He wants Makoto to invite him back, ask him to stay, anything. As always, Makoto breaks the silence.

“So uh, I know phones aren't your thing, but would you mind giving me your number? It's changed since high school right?” Makoto asks. Haru nods.

“Yeah, I'm,” he hesitates. “I'm better at it now.” He forces himself to look Makoto in the eyes and say it. He _will_ be better at it now.

“Great! Hang on,” Makoto shifts Mariko into one of his arms to pull his phone out of a back pocket. He smiles when he hands it to Haru. Haru stares at it for a second before taking it. One corner of the case is mangled, looking suspiciously like chew marks. He punches his number in and quickly hands it back.

“Thank you, Haru. I'll message you later so you have my number too,” Haru nods, looking away again. His face feels hot.

“Thank you for coming today Haru. It was really good to see you again,” Makoto sounds strained. Haru realizes he's stalling too and looks back up at him. He can't read the emotion on his face, but it makes him sad. He needs to go.

“Yeah,” he says. He was never good at goodbyes. “I'll see you, Makoto.”

“I'd like that,” Makoto says quietly. Haru wants to run. He walks out the door before he does something he'll regret.

He had tried, right?

 

Makoto watches Haru walk out the door, and hopes it won't be like last time. He wonders if he really will see Haru again. But still, it had been really great to see him, better than he'd thought it would be. Haru was Haru, and once a upon a time they had been inseparable. Well, Makoto had _thought_ they were. Mariko babbles something and draws Makoto's attention back to the present.

“No sense on dwelling on it, right Mariko?” she's falling asleep in his arms, and he smiles. “We'll be fine, Mari. I promise.” He ruffles her hair and heads upstairs. He puts her to bed in the little crib by his bed, and watches her settle down into her blankets for a second before snapping on the little monitor. He grabs the other and heads back downstairs.

Haru's mug is still on the table, next to the empty pastry box. He smiles to himself. Haru came all the way to his house. He even brought a gift like a proper guest. He would have had to take a bus _and_ a train. Haru had changed. He hums to himself as he cleans.

He wonders what could have spurred Haru to make such an effort, after all this time. He couldn't just ask him, if Haru was anything like he used to be, he would hate being put on the spot. Even after a few hours of mostly easy chatting, Makoto didn't know much about this Haru. He still lived in Iwatobi, but in an apartment. Honestly, that just raised more questions. Haru had loved his grandmother's house. But the way Haru's jaw had clenched warned Makoto that it was a difficult subject.

He yawns his way back to his room. Mariko sleeps soundly, and Makoto thinks to himself for how lucky he is for probably the millionth time. Adjusting to suddenly having a baby in his life certainly hadn't been easy, but she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He remembers the first time he had seen her, this tiny little thing in a stroller sitting next to Satomi in a cafe downtown. The sun was warm against her skin, and as soon as she opened her eyes and looked at Makoto he had known. Time had stopped, the world had gone mute. He had taken wobbly steps towards her and was kneeling down to reach out to her before he knew what was happening.

“Mariko,” Satomi had said, in a voice Makoto knew meant she had probably said it a few times already. He couldn't speak, just looked up at her in wonder. Satomi's dark chestnut hair was parted differently from the last time he had seen her. A piece had fallen out, and even months after their break-up, Makoto found himself fighting the urge to reach up and tuck it behind her ear. His heart clenched with its sporadic beating.

“I said, I named her Mariko. She's yours Makoto. She's just fucking like you,” Satomi laughed and Makoto turned so she didn't see the hurt flash in his eyes. “She's fucking _perfect_ ,” Satomi said the word like a curse, and Makoto thought it might be coming from her.

He remembers that night, after Satomi had left them without looking back, coming back to his empty house with his daughter curled up against his chest. His fingers itched for a cigarette, but he knew those days were over. He didn't have anything for a baby besides some basic stuff he had picked up on the way home. He didn't even have a place for her to sleep.

In the end, he had set her gently on his own bed, and curled around her. “It's just you and me now, Mariko,” he had said, kissing the top of her lumpy little head. He didn't sleep all night.

He strips down to his boxers to sleep, leaving her alone only long enough to brush his teeth. She _was_ perfect, and he wasn't going to let her mother's venom poison the word for her like it had for him. He flicks the lights off and turns his phone on. Haru was probably back in Iwatobi by now. He scrolls to Haru's new number and opens a message to it.

 _'Hey Haru, this is Makoto, did you make it home okay?'_ Send. He would have offered to give Haru a ride home, but something about the set of Haru's shoulders made him hesitate. He got the feeling their little meeting had been too much for Haru. He hoped he'd actually respond this time.

He's nearly asleep by the time his phone gently vibrates in his palm. _'Yeah'_ is all it says. Well, he supposes that's better than nothing. And then, ' _Thank you_ '. Makoto smiles. Haru really is trying.

' _I'm glad_.' he hesitates. He should just go to bed and let it go. _When will I see you again? We have so much to catch up on. Where have you been for the last decade? I missed you. Why did you abandon me? I missed you._ Makoto groans and rolls over. He must really be exhausted to be thinking so wildly. He knows better than to pin Haru on the spot and expect a straight response. Haru would tell him on his own time, or never at all.

 _'I'm glad. I'm off this Friday if you want to come over again'_ That was okay, right? He had days off before that, but if he knew Haru, he'd need the time anyway. Send.

He had fallen asleep by the time Haru sends something back. _'Sounds good. Goodnight Makoto.'_ Makoto laughs under his breath. Haru's at his texting limit, he guesses. But still, he said yes, and Makoto feels a little lighter.

 _'Great! See you Friday. Goodnight Haru_ ' Makoto falls asleep with a smile, and doesn't remember his dreams of blue pools and bright stars in the morning.

 

Haru had rode home in a daze. The bus, and subsequent train, had both been nearly empty and Haru welcomed the silence. He felt wired and exhausted at the same time. He couldn't believe he had actually seen Makoto. The city he lived in was only one train stop away from Iwatobi, and Haru feels like an idiot for believing that he was outside his reach.

Although, not as much an idiot as Rin had thought. The thought tastes bitter on his tongue, but Haru thinks back to the last fight he had had with Rin and grudgingly admits that Rin had been right. About everything.

After Haru had refused to answer his phone, Rin did what he always did, and showed up pounding on his door. If Haru had still lived in his old house, he would have ignored him. But he had neighbors now, so he resentfully dragged himself to the door. He opened the door and told Rin to go away before Rin had shoved himself unceremoniously into Haru's apartment.

“What the hell is your problem, Haru!?” Haru sighed as he closed the door. He didn't turn to face Rin.

“Well? I haven't been in Japan in _months_ , and you just bail on me? And then ignore my calls?” Rin hissed. He wasn't going to drop it.

“I didn't have anything else to say. It's not like we were talking about you anyway,” he said, maybe a little bitterly.

“What? What does that mean?”

“Nothing, forget it.” Haru should have left him banging on the door.

“The hell I will. What is your fucking problem?!” Rin's hand appeared on Haru's shoulder, spinning him around until they were face to face. Haru glared at him. Rin glared right back, eyes searing into Haru. Like a flame being blown out, his face suddenly collapsed in realization.

“Oh my god. It was Macchan, wasn't it?” Haru ripped himself from Rin's grasp and moved into his apartment, distancing himself.

“Go home Rin.”

“Not just Macchan, it's Makoto too,” Rin looked at him with wide eyes and Haru felt like he was being pierced.

“Drop it,” he said, voice like ice.

“It's Makoto. Christ Haru, it's always been Makoto hasn't it?”

Haru had nothing to say to that. He wasn't sure himself.

“How fucking dare you,” Rin said quietly. That catches him off guard. He looks back up and Rin is more upset than he'd seen him in a while. Haru's heart skipped.

“How fucking dare you! You have _no_ right to feel anything about what Makoto's doing with his life now! You have no idea what he's been through, without you!” Rin had looked like he was holding himself back from punching Haru or crying or both. Haru didn't care which, he didn't want to hear it.

“Enough-”

“No! No you fucking listen to me, Nanase!” Haru felt like he'd been slapped. Rin hadn't called him that since before they started swimming together.

“Whatever you think you're feeling for Makoto, forget it. You don't even fucking know him anymore. Was it a shock for you? Finding out he lives so close? He's always been right fucking there for you Haru! You're the one who put him out in the cold, you don't get to be upset about him anymore!” Each word stabbed straight through Haru. He swallowed hard. Rin wasn't done.

“Do you have any idea what it did to him? When you stopped answering his calls, when you started dodging him in public?” Haru's eyes snapped wide at that, he had thought he had slipped Makoto's view.

“Yeah he told me all about that little shitstorm. That was low, even for you. Know what he did after he came crying to me that day you dodged him in the train station? _He told me not to give you hell for it._ You hurt him, Haru. You hurt him over and over and he's still fucking defending you!” Angry tears spilled out of Rin's eyes but he paid them no mind. Haru wanted to throw up. He figured Makoto had forgotten about him years ago. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them form.

“When have you ever put in the same effort he does? What have you ever done for him?” Haru swallowed down the lump in his throat, and looked away. He had to take several deep breaths before he could speak.

“I want to,” he said. His voice cracked.

“Yeah, what do you want Haru? Really? To go get Makoto's hopes up and crush them again? To mess with what he has with Macchan? There's no way in hell I'm going to let you fuck him over again, no matter what he says.”

“I don't want to hurt him again, I,” Haru had to pause to breathe. “I want to _try_ , Rin. Please.” His breaths were coming in uneven as Rin stared him down still freely crying himself.

“Relationships are two ways Haru. You severed your end, unless you can mend it on your own it will never return. Honestly, you don't even deserve it to.” Rin's laugh was dry and lacked all humor.

“I just want to try,” he said, feeling very small. A hot tear broke free and rolled down his chin. He was so tired of being all alone.

“ _Please_.” It was all too much.

After a silence so long Haru was sure Rin was just going to storm out and leave, Rin sighed. Haru tried to get his breathing under control. Rin looked tired and worn down when he looked up at him.

“Give me a piece of paper or something,” he said finally. Thrown off, Haru did it. Rin stared him down until he produced a pen too. Rin scribbled something down and glared back up at Haru strong enough to make him step back.

“I'm only doing this for Makoto, so if you fuck this up I will never forgive you.” Reluctantly, Rin handed the paper back over. On it was an address in the next city over. Haru's eyes shot wide and he looked back at Rin.

“Thank you,” his voice was barely a whisper. Rin rolled his eyes and headed to the door. “Bring a gift, Macchan requires them. And Haru?” Rin looked over his shoulder at him.

“Don't talk to me until you talk to Makoto.” The door slammed behind him. Haru slumped down on the ground, staring at the little address in his hands. _Makoto._

Haru nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone goes off as soon as he makes it home. He had been in deep thought, and his phone rings so seldom that it always startles him anyway. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and glares at it accusingly before unlocking the screen.

 _'Hey Haru, this is Makoto, did you make it home okay?'_ Haru smiles. As much as Makoto had changed, it was reassuring that somethings never did. He flips the lights on in his apartment, heading towards his little kitchenette. It was nothing like Makoto's kitchen. He wondered what it'd be like to cook in that kitchen. He bets all Makoto's burners work, instead of just the front right one like on his stove.

The house had been a bit of a shock, honestly. He thought the address Rin had given him would have led to an apartment, or maybe a duplex. But Makoto had gone and grown into a whole house. It had even smelled like him. That alone made it more welcoming than the little apartment Haru had been living in. Haru already wanted to go back.

He pops some leftovers in the microwave and picks his phone back up. ' _Yeah_ ' he sends back. After a second he adds, _'Thank you'_. The microwave beeps, and he puts his phone back down. He picks at his food with distaste. He really doesn't care for anything he has to microwave, but he doesn't have the energy to cook something properly. He idly wonders if Makoto's eating properly. His thoughts wander around until they land on Mariko. _Macchan_ , he thinks annoyed. He was going to hit Rin for that.

Haru wonders about her more than the house or Makoto's apparent second growth spurt. Makoto had stuck to safe topics, and had offered nothing up about her origin. Haru wasn't sure he was on thick enough ice to ask. Haru was sure she was Makoto's daughter, but he hadn't once mentioned her mother. None of the answers Haru thought of would end well for Makoto, so he tries to forget about it.

His phone rings again as he sets his plate in the sink. _'I'm glad. I'm off this Friday if you want to come over again'_ Haru sits himself down, plate forgotten. It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it? He opens the message screen and closes it. He looks up at his ceiling, as if it might offer some insight. Of course he wants to go. He'd get on a train right now if Makoto invited him. Makoto could just be saying it to be nice.

 _'I'd be really happy if we could be friends again,'_ Makoto's voice echoes in his head. Haru groans and goes into his room, stripping on the way. He crawls into his bed, shivering at the coolness of the sheets. He stares at his phone before finally punching in a reply. _'Sounds good. Goodnight Makoto.'_ Because texting was stupid and he knows Makoto needs his sleep.

 _'Great! See you Friday. Goodnight Haru_ ' comes the reply almost instantly. Haru's face feels warm, and he feels himself smiling again. He stares at the screen until it blurs, feeling happier than he had in a long time. He was still going to punch Rin, but maybe he'd do it after thanking him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little more explained this time, I wanted to get the thing with Satomi out early since I don't think Makoto will be ready to talk about it for a while. And Rin! I love Rin. You know he regretted saying some of that stuff to Haru later, but he's too stubborn to admit it. thanks to everyone who's read and left kudos so far! it helps me stay motivated :)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If his old place in Makoto's life was gone, he'd just make a new one. Makoto was worth the effort.

The cashier was looking at him weird. Haru didn't like it. She keeps glancing at the books on the counter, and back up at him as she rings him up. He can feel his eye twitch. If she takes any longer counting his change he was going to just leave without it. Finally, she hands it over with his receipt. He's already grabbed his books and turned around to leave, not wanting to give her some more opportunities to stare at him as she bags it. 

“Have a nice day!” she calls from behind him. “And congratulations!” Haru freezes for a second before quickly walking away. She had no idea after all. He supposes its better she assume he's an expecting father rather than some weirdo buying baby books for no reason. 

Although, he's pretty sure his reason is weird enough. He hadn't come to the bookstore for that, but when he had passed the parenting section a book had caught his eye. He had flipped through that one, and the one next to it. Before he knew it he had a few tucked under one arm as he wondered around the store. He had even found a cookbook for making baby food. 

Haru had quickly realized how out of his depth he was. He didn't know a thing about babies. He thought he was okay with children, since Ran and Ren had always liked him, but babies were so different. How Makoto had managed all on his own was beyond Haru. But then, that Makoto had had to manage on his own was beyond him too. 

Over the last few days since his visit, its all Haru can think about. Makoto, Mariko, the strange house in a strange city. Haru wakes up dreaming about it all, and goes to bed with Makoto's voice in his head. He catches himself checking his phone when he knows it hasn't rang, hoping for another message from Makoto. He sighs. He opens the message screen and his fingers hover over the keypad. He sighs again and shoves it back in his pocket. Texting was so  _stupid_ . 

He heads back towards his apartment with no hurry, idle thoughts passing through his mind. He thinks about what to make for dinner. Wonders what Makoto's having. He hopes Makoto's not as hopeless a cook as he was in high school. His phone rings and Haru trips in the middle of the crosswalk. An old woman asks if he's alright and he all but runs away after answering her. 

He jerks his phone out of his pocket and his face falls a little when Rin's name flashes across the screen instead of Makoto's. He frowns and opens it. ' _About fucking time,_ ' it reads. Haru scowls. It rings with a new message before he can close it. ' _You're taking me to dinner tonight, you owe me._ ' Haru disagrees on instinct. He walks another two blocks before he decides a response.  _'We're having mackerel'_ he sends back.  _'I hate you, see you at seven'_ he gets back almost instantly. Haru can almost hear Rin groaning about it and smiles at the thought. 

 

“Aba!” Mariko chirps.

“That's right Macchan, we're almost home,” Makoto pants back at her.

“Bababa aba,” Mariko gurgles back. Mariko enjoys Makoto's morning runs even more than he does. Makoto smiles as he switches hands on the stroller. Of course she enjoys them, she gets to sit in comfort as he lugs her all over the neighborhood. Makoto doesn't mind. In fact, he's pretty happy he can squeeze in a little more time with her, and he sees it as adding a little strength training to his cardio. It's a win win win. 

He had pushed himself today though, and his house coming into view was a welcome sight. With the promise of a shower and a cool drink, Makoto sets his sights on his driveway and speeds up for a final push. Mariko squeals. 

When he finally wheels around the corner of his driveway sweat drips down his face and soaks into his t-shirt. A figure slumped in his doorway surprises him until the recognition clicks in.

“Rin! You're early!” He calls out, wiping sweat off his brow. 

“Da!” Mariko reaches out and giggles. 

“Damn is right Macchan,” Rin smiles as he comes towards them. He gives Makoto a once over before bending down and snatching Mariko up in his arms. 

“Macchan, did you know your dad is a beast?” Rin asks sweetly. Makoto laughs. 

“It's good to see you too Rin,” Rin flashes his smile back at him. 

“Not as good as it is to see you. You look good, man. So much better than when I left last time,” Rin's smile falters a little, and he adds quietly, “I was worried about you two, you know.” 

“Rin,” Before Makoto can say anything more, Rin lifts Mariko and spins her around in the air, much to her delight.

“And you! Macchan you're getting so big!” Makoto doesn't bother finishing his sentence as he lets them inside. Rin's gone full Macchan mode. Mariko laughs and wiggles around in his arms as he coos at her. Makoto's pretty sure she recognizes him. He grabs a protein shake out of his fridge and downs half of it as Rin gets her situated in her high chair. 

“Ah, Makoto, has she eaten yet?” Rin spins around to look at him, judging. Makoto laughs.

“Yes mom, she ate earlier,” Rin rolls his eyes. 

“If anything, you're the mom. I'm just the favorite godfather, right Macchan?” 

“Gabaga,” she says back, very serious. Rin looks delighted. 

“Suck on that Sousuke,” he says. “I am  _so_ the favorite.” 

“ _Rin_ .” Makoto does not whine, but might as well have. “Please say my daughter is not a competition for you and Sousuke.”

“Oh relax. Of course it's not a competition, I've already won.” Rin's shit eating grin makes Makoto laugh despite himself. He shakes his head. 

“I'm going to take a shower,” Rin hums appreciatively, and Makoto can feel his cheeks heat. He downs the rest of his shake. It's an old game they've played for years. He's not sure when, but at some point Rin started hitting on him and flattering him whenever he had a chance. It had confused him until one drunk night Rin had confessed that he just wanted Makoto to accept that he's a ' _hunk_ '. He stopped getting flustered about it, and just that Rin cared enough to try and boost his confidence like that had actually worked. That, and they had gone through  _a lot_ of alcohol those days. 

But Rin still managed to catch him off guard sometimes, like today. He leaves the kitchen before Rin can catch on that it's working, and hears Rin cooing and babbling with Mariko as he heads upstairs. 

 

When Makoto comes back downstairs a few minutes later, rubbing a towel through damp hair, Rin whistles at him. Makoto throws his towel at him. Mariko tries to whistle in his lap but ends up just blowing bubbles. Rin can't help but let out a little laugh of his own. He's been abroad for a long time, and he can't help but relax around Makoto and Mariko. Makoto looks like his old self again, all cheery smiles and warm eyes packed into his stupid shredded body. And Mariko has grown so much, Rin still can't get over it. 

“Are you ready to go yet, beefcake?” Rin asks lowering his voice and feeling his grin slip to show teeth. Makoto looks pained and Rin's smile grows.

“Please don't call me that,” he says looking like he bit into a sour grape. 

“Hey, if one of my oldest friends fits the beefcake bill, I get to at least make fun of him for it.” Honestly. Who did Makoto think he was talking to? If he had to hear his teammates affectionately call Makoto a ' _gym bunny_ ' again he might have to start bashing skulls. Makoto didn't know how easy he was letting him off.

“What kind of logic is that,” he hears Makoto mutter as he rustles through his bag. Rin doesn't answer, standing up and stretching with Mariko. Makoto straightens back up with the bag and reaches out for Mariko. 

“Oh no,” Rin says, sharp finger jabbing Makoto in the chest. He scowls at the resistance it meets.  _Beefcake_ . “Beast gets the luggage, and beauty gets the girl,” he says walking off. 

“Rin, have you been watching Disney movies again? I don't think that's how it goes,” Makoto says behind him. Rin can  _hear_ the smile. 

“Shut up already,” he says. He actually probably could totally watch Disney movies again, as long as he watches them with Mariko. He hums to himself a little as they head into town. He bets she'd like Mulan. 

They fall into an easy familiarity as they walk into town. They made a point to try and talk to each other at least once a month between their schedules, but there was something about talking in person that you can't mimic over a web cam or a phone. Rin's relieved the bags under Makoto's eyes have mostly disappeared. He had left just a month after Mariko had come into his life, and it had looked bleak for Makoto. He hadn't been sleeping or eating enough, so much that for the first time since high school, Makoto had actually lost weight. Rin had watched him recover through his computer, but seeing him solid and happy again in the flesh was so much better. 

They make small talk as they order and eat. Rin will never understand why the food tastes so much better in Japan, but it does. He eats enough for two, and Makoto orders thirds. Even after they're long done with the food, they sit and talk. Makoto talks animatedly about Mariko and his work at the station, and Rin fills him in on the gossip in the athlete world. Rin feels pretty content. 

“You'll never believe who I ran into the other day Rin,” Makoto says, deflating his good mood a little. Rin could definitely guess, but he doesn't want to get Makoto's hopes up if he's wrong. And he's pretty sure Makoto would frown and give him his disappointed face and lecture him if he knew he had yelled at Haru. So he shrugs. 

“Haru came to my house, all on his own, can you believe that?” Makoto's smiling, gazing into his water glass. Rin watches him closely for a second, trying to tell what Makoto's really feeling. His eyes are fond, but distant, like he's looking at a nice memory that he can't quite recall. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. He'll never forgive himself if he's not. Makoto looks startled when he looks up from his glass. He looks at Rin and seems to catch on, smiling a second later. 

“It was really nice to see him again. Really. I'm okay.” he says honestly. 

“Okay then. Good I guess.” Rin's still feeling uneasy.

“He apologized to me,” Rin's stomach twists. “Said he wants to try being friends again.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mariko likes him I think,” Makoto says, light tone returning. Rin exhales. 

“Not as much as she likes me,” Rin insists. 

“Hmm,” Makoto hums. Oh no, hell no.

“There is no way she likes that mackerel bastard more than her  _favorite_ godfather!” Mariko laughs and blows raspberries at him. “Not helping Macchan!”

“I wonder how Haru knew where I live now..” Makoto says, ruffling Mariko's hair in thought. Rin pales. Makoto looks at him and Rin thinks he can maybe see through him. He really really hopes Makoto hasn't developed that weird mind reading ability he seems to get with friends. The kind of language running through his head is damning alone. Wildly he tries to think in English, hoping it will throw him off. Makoto laughs and Rin gapes.

“Sorry, sorry. I know better than to ask for details.” Makoto tilts his head and Rin can hear the relief in his own exhale. “It was you though, wasn't it?” Rin looks away.

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, figured you'd be happy about it.” Makoto's hand is warm on his shoulder and makes Rin look back up at him. His eyes are warm, and for a second he looks like the lanky kid from high school all over again. 

“Thank you Rin. It  _does_ make me happy. But I get the feeling you should probably apologize to Haru too.” 

“Tch, fine,” he rolls his eyes and tries to look put out. Makoto thanks him again, and Rin swiftly changes the subject. Seeing Makoto happy about Haru coming back in his life didn't erase the time he had been depressed about losing him, but maybe time would help heal it over. He had been harsh on Haru. He had nearly called him the next day to apologize, but his pride kept replaying his dumb ass line about not talking to him until he talked to Makoto. 

Well, he had. If Haru could work himself up to that, Rin could certainly work up an apology. As much as he didn't agree with his decisions recently, Haru was still his friend. He deserved more than Rin's wrath.

 

At 6:54, someone knocks on Haru's door. He sighs as he puts his book down and goes to answer it. Rin stands on the other side, looking annoyed and out of place. Haru had thought he would be fine facing him again, but suddenly he doesn't know what to say. It seems Rin doesn't know either. 

“Yo,” he says finally, “You gonna let me in or what?” Haru inclines his head and steps aside. Rin walks in and takes stock of the living room, like he'd never been there before. Haru follows him in and heads towards his room. 

“I'll get my bag and we can go,” he says, not turning around when Rin grunts his acknowledgment. He comes back a moment later and Rin is flipping through the book he had been reading. Rin jumps like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't when he notices Haru watching him. 

“So you met Macchan huh?” He says hand rubbing the back of his neck. Haru glares. Right. Rin was the one who had led him on about Mariko's real identity. 

“Yeah, I did,” he says. “Ass.” He adds for good measure. Rin's mouth tweaks up in a sheepish grin and Haru realizes its the first time he's smiled since their fight. Haru presses his lips together in a frown. Rin seems to hold back a laugh and Haru's frown deepens. 

“Ah hell, Haru,” he sniggers. “I'm sorry about that. Really. But you're hardly the only one I did that too. You should have seen Rei, he dressed up to meet her,” Rin laughs for real at that, and Haru finds himself relaxing into it. 

“And...” Rin's laugh dies and his eyes get serious. Haru's shoulders set back up straight. 

“And I'm sorry about what I said to you. You didn't deserve all that.” Haru's breath hitches and he looks away. 

“I mean it. What I said was fucked up. You're my friend, and I fucked up.” He wasn't expecting that. Rin's sincerity catches him off guard and makes his eyes burn. 

“Rin...” Haru doesn't really know what to say so he lets it hang. 

“I mean, you definitely needed someone to shove your ass into gear, but still. Sorry.” Haru looks back up at him. Rin means every word, and its clear he's waiting for Haru to say something. He lets out a long breath through his mouth and tries for a small smile. 

“Thank you Rin.” Now Rin looks like he might tear up and Haru suppresses a laugh.

“I brought her pastries, thanks to you,” Rin laughs, tears aborted. He nudges a fist into Haru's shoulder.

“Idiot,” his smile returns. “Bet Makoto loved them though.” Haru shrugs noncommittally and they head out together. 

They split up after dinner and head their separate ways. Haru almost feels like he's back to normal. He hadn't spent any time with Rin that didn't involve yelling or a pool, or both, in what feels like forever. Rin had invited him to go swimming with him and Haru had turned him down. Rin had frowned and stared at him but let it go eventually. Haru wasn't really sure why he turned him down anyway, but the pool had lost something for him a while back and he hadn't gotten it back yet.

He pulls out his phone as he walks back and scrolls his messages. He reads the ones from Makoto for the hundredth time. Makoto hadn't sent anything back. Frowning, Haru opens the keyboard. His fingers hover over the letters. With a sigh, he pushes them down until they form words.  _'Hey'_ The cursor blinks back at him.  _'Hey, do you still want me to come over tomorrow?'_ Delete. Makoto had invited him, it would be rude to doubt it now.  _'Hey, do you want me to bring anything tomorrow?'_ Well, it was  _better_ . Haru sends it and shoves his phone back in his pocket. 

He gets a block away before his phone rings. This time he doesn't jump.  _'Thanks Haru, but I'm good. How's your night going?'_ Makoto makes it look so easy. Haru would scowl but he finds himself smiling instead.  _'Okay. Better than I thought it would,'_ Haru types back honestly. He had enjoyed talking to Rin after they got over the awkward part.  _'I'm glad. I'm just putting Mariko to bed, so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?'_

Haru sighs as he slides his key into the lock. His apartment looks cold. _'Okay. Goodnight'_ he sends back. He sets his bag down and his phone rings again _. 'Goodnight Haru'_ Haru sits down and stares at his screen until it dims out. He eyes the stack of books next to him and picks up the one he'd been reading earlier. If his old place in Makoto's life was gone, he'd just make a new one. Makoto was worth the effort.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He thought I was your date?” Haru says, very quietly. Makoto doesn't answer him.
> 
> “Does that bother you?” He asks finally. Haru's eyes shoot up. Makoto looks at him levelly, expression guarded and rigidly neutral. Haru's stomach sinks. Makoto was guarding himself against _Haru_.

Haru stands in front of Makoto's door and shifts his weight to his other foot. He was a few minutes early. He bites his lip. He didn't bring anything this time, just his usual bag. He adjusts the strap over his shoulder and leaves his hand hooked there.

He knocks, and he can hear Makoto yell for him to come in from within. Cautiously, he opens the door and steps inside.

“Excuse me...” he says to no one in particular.

“I'll be right down Haru! Make yourself comfortable!” Makoto calls from somewhere upstairs. Haru nods before remembering Makoto can't see him.

“Okay,” he calls back. He wanders through the kitchen. There are a couple of spoons in the sink and a rice cooker on the end of the counter and little else. He heads into what should be a living room and finds it bare. There was a stack of cardboard boxes in the corner. Haru didn't see any furniture. The white walls stare blankly back at Haru. His fingers twitch with a desire to splash color over them. It doesn't feel like a home at all, and for a moment Haru's reminded of his little apartment back in Iwatobi. He catches a flash of green backyard through a window. He's about to take a step towards it when He hears Makoto coming down the stairs. He takes a deep breath to ground himself and turns around.

It wasn't enough. Makoto looks even better than the last time Haru had seen him. He's wearing crumpled jeans and a loose hooded jacket, faded orange t-shirt peeking through. He's wearing what look like the same glasses he had in high school and they highlight his eyes. Haru is sharply reminded of how much he's missed him. Makoto smiles at him and Haru takes a step towards him unconsciously.

“Hi,” Makoto says, breaking the silence with an easy smile.

“Hey,” Haru says back. He thinks he's smiling. Mariko seems to notice him and lets out a shrill sound before wiggling around in Makoto's arms. Makoto laughs and hunches over to kiss the top of her head.

“I think she remembers you,” he says, amused. Haru takes another step towards them and reaches his hand out towards her. He pauses and looks up at Makoto, who only nods and keeps smiling.

“Hello, Mariko,” he says, running a hand through her short hair. She beams. His hand shoots back to his side, suddenly embarrassed. He turns his head to the side, hair falling over his face. He's ashamed he ever thought he hated her. He looks back around the empty room, not sure how to bring it up.

“Ah, sorry about this place,” Makoto volunteers. “I hadn't been living here very long when I got Mariko, and then I got so busy.. I never really got furniture or unpacked I guess.” Haru risks a glance back up at Makoto, and sure enough there's a sadness there in his eyes. Haru hates the sadness behind his eyes. He wants to drain it out and leave the light Makoto should have there instead.

“Want help?” He offers. “Unpacking.” The sadness fades.

“That'd be great Haru! I could really use some help picking furniture, honestly. All I really have is that table and my bed,” Makoto says, one hand rubbing through the short hair on the back of his neck. He looks relieved and embarrassed at the same time. Haru feels his face warm.

“Sure,” he says. Makoto smiles. Haru doesn't know when it will stop making his heart speed up, but a small part of him hopes it never will.

“Thank you,” Makoto says. He opens his mouth to say something else but Mariko interrupts.

“Waga buuu,” Haru thinks she says. Makoto glances down at her before looking back at Haru.

“Hungry? I don't really have anything here but I know a great little restaurant that's close by. My treat.” Makoto says. Haru frowns.

“Nope, it's on me Haru.” Makoto's voice is firmer than Haru's heard it and he lets out a defeated huff. He wonders how after all this time he can still guess what he's about to say.

“Let me pay you back for those pastries,” Makoto says. Haru frowns up at Makoto.

“Aw, don't pout Haru.” Haru's frown turns into a halfhearted glare. He was an adult, and he did not _pout_.

“I hear they make a really good miso grilled mackerel.” Makoto says, voice sweet. Haru looks back up at him and Makoto laughs. He puts a hand on Haru's shoulder and gently steers him towards the door. Haru resists the urge to lean up against Makoto's palm, and does not whine when Makoto releases him to lock the door behind them.

Haru expects Makoto to produce a stroller or something for Mariko as they leave, but instead Makoto seems content to carry her in his arms, stuffed baby bag hanging off one shoulder. He must have been looking at them too long when after a moment Makoto provides an answer unprompted.

“I have a stroller, but I don't really like using it,” Makoto says. “We're not going far anyway.” Haru nods, letting Makoto lead the way.

“Doesn't she get heavy?” He asks.

“Not really? I'm pretty sure the hose at work weighs more than her anyway,” Makoto laughs again. Haru forgot. Of course she doesn't weigh anything. Makoto was a professional strongman now. His firefighter clothes probably weigh twice as much as she does.

“But sometimes I need both hands, so I cheat a little.” Makoto says, sensing Haru slipping. Haru looks up at him, questioning. Makoto shifts around until he can reach into a side pocket of his bag, and one handed he pulls out a long piece of fabric. Haru looks at him confused. Was it a scarf? Makoto shakes it until Haru can see a snap buckle.

“A sling?” He asks. Makoto nods and shoves it back in the bag.

“Yeah. I can snap her in and wrap it around my chest, and then I get both hands. It's really convenient but it looks pretty silly when I try and put it on.” He explains. Haru tries to imagine Makoto struggling his way into that and getting hopelessly tangled in the process. Haru snorts and looks away so Makoto can't see him laughing at him.

“I see,” he says evenly.

“Haru...” Makoto knows anyway. Haru looks back up at him.

“Who's pouting now?” He deadpans.

“Haru!” Makoto whines and Mariko laughs at him. Makoto slumps forward, defeated. Haru nearly laughs aloud.

They make it to Makoto's restaurant soon enough, and Makoto heads straight to a booth in the back. Haru follows, taking the bench opposite Makoto. Haru probably would have walked right past the place from the outside, but the inside was warm and welcoming. And it smells even better. His stomach had turned itself in knots as soon as he had taken a deep breath of the place, and now he was keenly looking forward to his mackerel.

A stern looking woman in an apron comes marching towards his table and Haru shrinks a little closer to the wall, hoping she'll march right by. No such luck. She stops inches away from Makoto's back, as he fusses with his bag and Mariko. She flicks his ear hard, and Makoto lets out an undignified yelp.

“Takagawa-san! That _hurt_!” Makoto whines, rubbing his ear. Haru looks between them, unsure how to react.

“Tachibana Makoto! You have a lot of explaining to do!” Makoto hunches a little in his seat, and Haru is reminded of a much smaller Makoto doing the same thing under his mother's words. He wants to reassure him somehow, but he still had no idea what was really going on. His instincts tell him to stay out of it.

“Hello, Takagawa-san. How have you been?” Makoto flashes his best smile at the woman and Haru nearly gapes as Makoto switches tactics. Sitting up straighter, he's nearly as tall sitting as she is on her feet. He relaxes back against the seat.

“I'm sorry it's been so long. Is that a new blouse? It really goes with your eyes,” he says still smiling.

Takagawa-san doesn't move for a moment and Haru wonders if Makoto's charm failed. Slowly, she takes her hands off her hips and sighs. She ruffles a hand through Makoto's hair and Haru looks away.

“You're the worst, Makoto. How could you keep that angel away from me for so long?” She asks him, voice several levels kinder than it had been. Makoto looks apologetic.

“Sorry, sorry. Here, wanna hold her?” Makoto lifts Mariko up and passes her over. Takagawa-san's face lights up, wrinkles deepening around her eyes and mouth. She wanders off still holding Mariko, talking softly to her. Makoto watches them leave, unconcerned. Haru looks at him.

“What was all that?” he asks. Makoto looks back at him.

“Sorry Haru, I should have warned you before we got here. That was Takagawa-san, she and her husband own this restaurant. When I first moved out here I ate here almost everyday.” Makoto smiles sheepishly when Haru frowns at him.

“Still can't cook?” Haru asks.

“I can cook a couple things okay, but over all, not really, no. And besides, I liked the company.” Makoto looks down, and Haru doesn't know what to say. They had both been alone then. While Makoto sought out company everywhere he went, Haru had been holed up alone in his apartment. _Why_ , Haru thinks, looking down at his lap, _couldn't they have been alone together?_

“But anyway, the food is really good here! And Takagawa-san isn't so bad once she warms up to you.” Makoto's smiling again and Haru nods. The sound of wood scraping across the floor draws their attention, and Makoto jumps up to help Takagawa-san move a high chair over to their table. Once Makoto sits back down after settling Mariko, Takagawa-san pivots her gaze to Haru. Haru freezes, sitting up straight.

“Takagawa-san, this is Haru. Haru, Takagawa-san,” Makoto promptly supplies. Takagawa-san stares at him, appraising. Haru swallows and inclines his head.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. He gets the feeling she's big on manners. A moment passes before she nods her head at him.

“Nice to meet you too. Any friend of Makoto's is welcome here,” she says. Haru feels like he's passed a test somehow. She shifts her attention back to Makoto and he exhales.

“You want the usual, Makoto?” she asks, not bothering to take out the pad and pen Haru can see poking out from a pocket in her apron.

“Please, and the miso grilled mackerel for Haru,” Haru looks away. It's such a Makoto thing to order for him. He waits until Takagawa-san leaves before he looks back at Makoto.

“She's a little intense huh?” Makoto says, apologetic. Haru nods.

“It took me a month to really feel comfortable talking to her,” Haru looks at Makoto, doubt painted across his face. Makoto laughs.

“Really! She was so scary, I could barely order,” Makoto confides. Haru rolls his eyes.

They ease back into a familiarity they both thought lost. Takagawa-san doesn't bother them, except to bring their food. Haru's mackerel is actually quite good, and he finds himself relaxing. Makoto digs into his mountain of curry like it could vanish at any moment, and Haru smiles to himself. He watches the little restaurant. Takagawa-san putters around tables. Haru guesses most of the customers are regulars with the familiarity they share. She laughs with an old man, slapping him on the back. She bends down to make faces at a child, who makes them right back. Over all, it was quiet with the dim hum of chatter. It was a warm atmosphere, and Haru can understand how someone like Makoto would gravitate here.

Haru's half finished with his mackerel when an older man steps up to their table and promptly squeezes a hand on Makoto's shoulder. Judging from his appearance, Haru guesses this is the other Takagawa-san.

“Makoto! We've missed ya and Macchan!” The man smiles from ear to ear and Haru thinks he could count his teeth on one hand.

“Ichiro-san, sorry,” Makoto smiles back at him, clearly at ease. “I've been really busy,” Ichiro-san barks out a laugh. He waggles his eyebrows and shoots a look at Haru.

“I can see that,” he says. Haru nearly chokes on his fish. “At least you brought your date, that almost makes up for being gone so long, kid,” Ichiro-san nudges Makoto's shoulder and Makoto only smiles.

“Sorry Ichiro-san, I'm still single. This is Haru, a good friend of mine,” Makoto says smoothly. Haru bows his head to hide his blush. Makoto still calling him a 'good friend' after all this time and the implication that Ichiro-san had thought they were a couple overwhelming him.

“Good to meet ya, Haru,” Ichiro-san says. Haru nods but doesn't look back up yet. He pushes his fish around on his plate.

“Sorry about the mix up. Makoto's a good man but he's never brought a date in and my wife won't rest until he does.” Makoto groans. Haru looks up at them. Ichiro-san squeezes himself into the seat next to Makoto and leans in close to whisper.

“She's tried to set him up five times! Five! She keeps nagging _everyone_ to find him a good date! Sometimes I just want to know the score from the game, not who's the most eligible suitor of the hour.” Ichiro-san groans and lets his shoulders slump. When Haru looks back to Makoto, his ears are red. Ichiro-san throws an arm around him, tugging him down to eye level.

“Son, you need to settle down. A good woman, man, whatever you kids are doing these days. For Macchan.” He tells Makoto gravely. Makoto mirrors his stare for a solid ten seconds before they both start laughing.

“I know I know, yer too busy! I can't blame ya I just wish _I_ had some peace.” Ichiro-san laughs.

“I can't believe you said do it for Macchan,” Makoto says. Ichiro-san snorts.

“Ichiro! Stop hassling the customers and get back to work!” Takagawa-san yells from the back. Ichiro-san slumps and reluctantly stands.

“Time's up. See ya later Macchan,” he pokes at her cheek and she giggles up at him. He looks at Haru and puts a hand on his shoulder. Haru feels his spine go tight.

“Good meeting ya, Haru.” Haru's stuck in his gaze. After a second Ichiro-san squeezes his shoulder and heads back towards the kitchen, nodding at Makoto. Alone again, Haru slumps forward in his seat. This was why he stayed in his apartment.

“You okay?” Makoto is looking at him, light concern pinching the corners of his mouth. Haru huffs his bangs out of his face. Makoto smiles.

“They're kind of overwhelming, huh?” Haru nods. “Sorry.”

“It's fine, just didn't expect it,” Haru says. He looks down at his plate. As good as it had been, Haru's lost his appetite. He sets his utensils down and stares at the table. Senses as keen as ever, Makoto nudges his foot under the table.

“Are you really okay? We can go if you want,” Makoto's voice is soft. Haru doesn't look up at him.

“He thought I was your date?” Haru says, very quietly. Makoto doesn't answer him.

“Does that bother you?” He asks finally. Haru's eyes shoot up. Makoto looks at him levelly, expression guarded and rigidly neutral. Haru's stomach sinks. Makoto was guarding himself against _Haru_. He swallows, thinking of his next words carefully.

“No,” he says firmly. That was the most important part. Makoto waits for him to go on.

“I just thought...” Haru can't help but look at Mariko as he thinks his next words through. Makoto sees him looking at Mariko and his gaze softens.

“...that you liked women?” Haru says, still looking at Mariko. Makoto stays quiet. Haru's hands curl into fists. He doesn't know how no one else can hear his heartbeat, it was so loud. He hears Makoto exhale and looks up just in time to watch his face transform from the terrible mask into a warm smile that was entirely Makoto's.

“Who said I have to pick?” He asks like he's asking if Haru thinks it will rain. Haru's eyes go wide and his heart leaps into his throat.

“Then you,” he swallows past the lump in his throat. “With men?”

“Both. Either, really. It just never mattered to me.” Haru falls back against his seat. He nods back at Makoto because it makes perfect sense. Makoto had always been like that, Haru had just never connected the dots. Makoto's still smiling at him and Haru feels like a weight's been lifted off his chest. He finds himself smiling back at him.

“ _Wishy-washy_ ,” he says, and Makoto chokes out a laugh.

 _“Haru!”_ Haru takes a bite of his fish. Makoto's ears are pink.

“Unbelievable,” Makoto shakes his head. He stabs a piece of fish off Haru's plate and shoves it in his mouth. Haru lets out a disgruntled huff.

“I basically come out to you and all you can say is 'wishy-washy'?” Makoto's smiling and Haru knows they're back on safe ground.

“I can't believe you remember that anyway,” Makoto laughs. Haru remembers the last time he had called Makoto that was when he couldn't decide which of his friends he would have dated. He blushes remembering he had instantly chosen Makoto. He watches Makoto fuss with Mariko from under his lashes and thinks he would choose Makoto a hundred times over.

They finish dinner without further incident, and when they stand to leave Haru catches Makoto leaving several bills more than he estimates the meal actually cost. He raises a brow at Makoto, but he just shrugs and picks Mariko up. Takagawa-san only lets them leave after promises from Makoto to come back sooner this time. They walk back in companionable quiet. The sun hasn't set yet, but it was on its way. The sky is flared with pinks and oranges and Haru catches himself trying to match the colors to their paint names.

Makoto's house comes into view far too soon. As they head up the walk, Haru hesitates. He doesn't want to go home yet. Makoto looks back at him as he digs in a pocket for his key.

“It's still pretty early, huh?” He says, looking to the sky. “Want to come in for a bit?” Haru doesn't miss that he's deliberately leaving it open, making it easy if Haru wanted to leave. He steps up to the door.

“Yeah,” he says. Makoto smiles and opens the door for him. Makoto flicks lights on as he goes, and after a minute they end up back at the kitchen table, kettle heating on the stove. Haru watches as Makoto makes Mariko a bowl of cereal- which he had explained as her favorite food of the week. He comes back with their drinks and cereal for Mariko, who really looks more eager to stick her hands in it than actually eat it. Haru sips his tea as Makoto tries to feed her and keep her out of the bowl at the same time. He's mostly successful.

“You're pretty good at that,” he says. Makoto grins.

“You kind of have to be,” he says, gently swatting a chubby hand away. She gets past him and splashes milk all over him. Haru stifles a laugh as he watches milk drip down Makoto's glasses.

“Macchan, you _like_ milk,” Makoto flicks off his hands, grabbing a towel off the counter. “At least you liked milk yesterday.”

“Kabaga!” She cheers at him. Haru opens his mouth to say something, but he promptly forgets what he was going to say, and probably several other things as Makoto takes his shirt off. His mouth hangs slightly open, and Haru doesn't even try not to stare.

Haru had seen Makoto without his shirt. In fact, Haru was pretty sure he'd seen Makoto without a shirt, everyday, for years when they were growing up. Haru's decently sure he's even seen Makoto butt naked before. He was absolutely sure he had never seen Makoto like _this_. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that logically, Makoto would have had to put on some muscle from the teen he remembers just by grace of his profession. But even that part of his mind was impressed.

Makoto was breathtaking. His height played a part, but Haru couldn't look away from his chest. He was _built_. This Makoto could probably bench press his older self. His arms were solid trunks, anchored by broad shoulders that tapered into a flat chest and defined abdominal muscles. Makoto turns a little, wiping his face on his shirt and Haru sees it. Bold flowing black lines danced in waves splashing off a tattoo of an orca, etched right over his rib cage. Haru's mind blanks. He wants to trace it with his fingers, to feel if the inked skin feels different from the rest. Unconsciously, he licks his lips.

Makoto throws his shirt into the sink and runs the towel over his face before tossing it aside too. Haru catches another black flash on his forearm, and after a second it clicks into place as a tattoo of a firefighter's helmet, and some details around it he can't quite make out. His mouth shuts with an audible click, and Makoto looks up at him.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Makoto looks around almost nervously. “I probably shouldn't just strip, especially since I spent years trying to reign you in, huh?” Haru finally snaps out of it and jerks his head to the side. He wonders if his ears are red too.

“Sorry,” he says.

“I'll go change real quick, keep an eye on her?”

“Yeah,” he says. He doesn't look until he hears Makoto leaving. Looking at all was a mistake, when he catches a flash of Makoto's back. He's pretty sure there was another tattoo on the base of Makoto's neck, but it was too small for Haru to really make out.

Haru exhales hard and squeezes his eyes shut. He had been totally unprepared for that. And the tattoos threw him in an unexpected direction. His fingers trace an outline of a whale on the counter. He hadn't known he was into that until they had shown up on Makoto's perfect frame. He takes a long drink of his tea, desperately trying to calm down. Mariko bubbles at him.

“Any more surprises?” he asks her, still a little breathless. She laughs and eats a cheerio off the counter. He smiles a little at her.

“That's reassuring,” he says. She laughs and throws her hands up.

“Sorry Haru,” Makoto's voice precedes him as he comes padding down the stairs. He appears in a ripped tank top, running a towel through his now damp hair. Haru can make out the helmet tattoo better now, and he can't help but stare. Makoto smiles at him.

“Haru?” Haru swallows.

“Sorry,” he says. Makoto frowns.

“Please don't start calling me a beefcake,” he moans. Haru's eyes shoot wide and he looks at Makoto. Makoto sighs.

 _“Rin,”_ is all he has to say. Haru shoots him a look that says he is not Rin, and Makoto relaxes. He pulls the box of cereal down and puts a dry handful on Mariko's counter. She cheers.

“I thought you were afraid of needles,” Haru says after another sip of tea. Makoto laughs.

“I still am,” he says warmly. “I was really nervous getting the first one,” he admits. Haru tilts his head, waiting to see if he'll elaborate. Makoto touches his side, where the orca was hidden under his shirt.

“I was nervous, but I wanted something to symbolize all the time I had spent with friends, how important they all are to me, and how lucky I am to have them,” Makoto's eyes go distant and fond, and Haru feels bitter jealousy spilling over his tongue.

“You were the one who said I was like a killer whale, right?” Haru looks up at that. Makoto smiles down at him, and Haru feels himself deflate. Makoto had never stopped considering them friends, not for a single day. Haru feels his chest constrict.

“Anyway, once you get one, it's hard to not go get more,” Makoto says lightly. He drinks his coffee and Haru risks a look up at him. Makoto had really grown.

“Did it hurt?” he asks. Makoto winces.

“Like you wouldn't believe,” Makoto's face pinches, remembering. “No one told me until after it was done that that was one of the most painful placements.”

“Idiot,” he mutters under his breath. “Think those things through.”

“Hmm,” Makoto replies. “I don't regret it though.” Haru swallows more tea. Makoto looks straight through him, and he knows he isn't just talking about the tattoo. Haru colors and looks away.

“ _Idiot_ ,” he mutters. Makoto smiles.

“Might be.” For the first time, Makoto's empty kitchen feels warm.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you, Haru, but I can't just ask you-”  
> “You can.” Haru interrupts firmly.

Strong hands run down Haru's sides, rough fingers tracing the light grooves where muscle undulates. Haru sucks in a breath as they dip lower, fingertips ghosting over the hem of his jammers. A hot mouth sucks a kiss on his neck, and Haru's head falls back, exposing more of it. The mouth travels down to his collar bone, and the lightest hint of teeth set him on edge. He shoves a knuckle between his teeth to muffle any sounds slipping from his open mouth.

“Now now, we can't have that can we, Haru?” Comes a deep voice, whispered over the shell of his ear. One of the tan hands comes up to gently tug his hand out of his mouth and the other palms over his cock straining against his jammers. A lewd moan escapes him, and his eyes snap open. A hand gently brushes his bangs from his sweat-damped brow in sharp contrast to the rough grinding hand on his crotch.

“That's better,” the voice chuckles. “Let me hear you, Haru.” Haru leans his face into the warm palm, and is rewarded with a quick squeeze from the other hand. He practically mewls. The hand leaves his face and Haru watches the dark ink on his arm travel down and hover over his torso. Dexterous fingers slip under the band on his hips and he arches into them, eager to shed his only remaining clothing. The hands roll it down his hips, and his dick slips free. The cool air makes him hiss, but it's quickly replaced with warm palms and Haru melts back into the mattress.

The hands pump him a few times, and Haru finds himself moaning in time with them. They slow and Haru whines. A soft mouth presses against his own, and opens his mouth up with a deft tongue. It slips between his teeth and he sucks it in, desperate for the contact. He kisses into the mouth until he has to break apart to catch his breath. Hooded green eyes watch from above him, and Haru wants to fall into them.

“You look so good like this,” comes a familiar voice in an unfamiliar tone.

“Haru-chan,” Makoto's low voice says.

Haru lurches up from his bed with such force that he loses his balance and ends up on the ground. He pants and his heart races, images from his dream flooding his mind. Cautiously, he peeks down into his lap. His body betraying him confirms it. He was having an _adult_ dream about Makoto. He glances at his clock, still trying to get his body back under control. 2:56 AM.

Haru groans and slumps back against the side of his bed.

_“Fuck.”_

 

Haru's phone chirps happily at him. Haru doesn't move, blinking slowly at his ceiling. He had watched it lighten as the sun rose, never managing to fall back asleep after his _dream_. It's only been two days since he's seen Makoto. The realization that he maybe wants Makoto as something other than just his friend is hitting him hard.

Slowly he rolls over to grab his phone off the charger. The time flashes 9:02, and Haru groans. He opens the screen to an unfamiliar app. He tilts his head until he remembers Makoto had messed with it last time, adding some kind of photo app. His grip on the phone tightens. Unsure if a photo from Makoto would be good or bad for him, he presses open and holds his breath.

A picture of Mariko fills his screen, hugging onto a stuffed kangaroo toy. _'Good Morning! Mariko's new favorite~'_ it declares underneath. Haru exhales. It was a pretty good picture of her. His phone chirps again before he can think of anything to say back. This time it's a regular text message. _'Hey, are you free today? I could use some help picking out furniture :('_ Haru smiles. Only Makoto could be close to thirty and still use smiley faces. _'Yeah, give me an hour'_ He sends back, stretching some of the sleep off him. _'Thank you Haru!'_ Haru yawns and heads to his shower. It was going to be a long day.

This time, Haru walks straight up to Makoto's door and knocks. He only has to wait for a moment before it's being pulled open and Makoto's smiling down at him. Simple pullover sweater over khaki trousers today, Haru notes. They almost cover the mass of muscles Haru is painfully aware hide underneath.

“Hey Haru, thanks for coming” Makoto says. Haru watches the way his Adam's apple moves as he talks and looks away.

“Sure,” he says. Makoto takes a step inside and Haru follows, slipping out of his shoes on the way.

Makoto heads into the living space, and Haru notices it's completely empty this time. Makoto must have moved the boxes somewhere else. The house seems quiet without Mariko there to fill it with giggles, but Makoto had told Haru she was spending the day with someone else, making it the perfect time to deal with furniture.

“I was just sort of measuring? I'm not really sure where I should be measuring but I figure I should have some kind of idea...” Makoto trails off, looking around the space like a lost puppy. Haru bites his lip.

“I could draw it out for you, if you want,” he says, frowning at his mismatched socks.

“Really? That would be great!” Haru catches the excitement in Makoto's eyes and reluctantly pulls out his sketchbook. Makoto looks at him with something like awe, and Haru has to cover his face in the pages.

“It's nothing,” he mutters, turning to a fresh page.

“It's not nothing. Thank you Haru.” Makoto beams at him. He doesn't say anything else, and Makoto gets to work measuring the length of the walls. Haru sketches the outline, noting the measurements on each side. He drew in marks for the door to the yard and the windows and calls it good. He doesn't care for drawing things like this, preferring free flowing shapes and lines with lots of color, but he supposed this had its purpose too. Satisfied he had all the measurements they would need, he closes his book and tucks it back in his bag.

“So you're still drawing?” Makoto asks lightly. Haru considers giving him the short answer. Then he thinks about giving him the long answer. Sighing, he settles on the middle option.

“Yeah. I paint too,” he looks away when Makoto's smile widens. “It's kind of what I do for a living now,” he says in a rush.

“Wow, Haru. That's amazing,” Haru can hear the fondness in Makoto's voice. His hands fidget on the strap of his bag.

“It's nothing special,” he says.

_“Haru,”_ Makoto frowns. He opens his mouth to say something, and seems to think better of it before shaking his head with a smile. Haru wishes he knew what he was going to say.

“Well. Let's go?” Makoto says. Haru nods and follows him out the door. He follows Makoto down his walkway before he stops in confusion. Makoto steps off the sidewalk and crosses the street, heading straight to a house. Makoto looks back and motions for Haru to follow him. Confused, Haru catches up to Makoto on the doorstep. He tilts his head at Makoto. Makoto pushes the doorbell.

“This is Hara Isamu's house, one of my neighbors. He lets me borrow his truck from time to time,” Makoto tells him with a smile. Haru's eyes shoot up. Makoto was going to drive them? He doesn't have time to say anything before the door is pulling open.

“Makoto! You're looking well!” says a portly old man as he throws an arm around Makoto's waist.

“You too, Isamu-san,” Makoto says, returning the hug one armed. Haru tries not to glare. Isamu-san gives Makoto a friendly clap on the back before catching sight of Haru.

“You!” Isamu-san gasps and points at Haru. Alarmed, Haru takes a step behind Makoto. Isamu-san's laugh is loud and boisterous. Haru looks wildly up at Makoto, who mirrors his confusion.

“So you finally made it inside, huh?” Isamu-san says towards Haru. He looks back at Makoto.

“Isamu-san?” Makoto questions.

“Oh quit it with the formalities, Makoto,” he says still laughing. “I was gonna call you about this kid!” When Makoto just tilts his head, Isamu expands.

“This guy kept showing up outside your house and just standing there! I thought he was pretty suspicious at first,” Isamu steps around Makoto to get a better look at Haru. Haru feels his cheeks heating up. He didn't know someone had been watching his failed attempts to go talk to Makoto. Isamu grins and slaps a hand on Haru's shoulder.

“But it looks like I was right,” Makoto looks down at Haru, his eyes questioning. “He's your friend right?”

“Yeah, he is,” Makoto says easily, and Haru feels a little bolstered by it.

“Nice to meet you,” he says inclining his head towards Isamu. He laughs and slaps Haru on the shoulder again. Haru winces.

“Well it's nice to meet you too! Thanks for not being a stalker,” he adds before looking back at Makoto. He digs around in his pocket and produces a set of keys.

“You came for the truck, right?” He asks. Makoto falls back on his smile.

“Thanks Isamu,” he says taking the offered keys. “I'll change the oil before I bring it back.”

“Hell, she's yours if you want it Makoto. I keep telling you to just keep her.” Isamu says waving his hand like it's nothing.

“I couldn't do that, Isamu. You'd have to let me at least pay for it,” Makoto says frowning.

“Pah. You fixed her up, you're the only one driving her. I don't want your money,” Isamu says. Haru raises a brow at Makoto. He fixed a truck? Where did he learn that?

“I'll bring it back,” Makoto smiles. Isamu shrugs.

“Suit yourself,” he says not unkindly. He waves them off as they walk up to the driveway. The truck wasn't anything special, but Haru felt nervous getting into it anyway. Makoto pushes the key in the ignition and the truck rumbles to life.

“That surprised me,” he says. Makoto smiles.

“Me too. How many times did you come before I caught you outside?” He asks glancing at Haru as he puts it into gear and backs out the driveway. Haru lets himself be impressed with how smoothly Makoto handles the truck before turning to stare out the window.

“A few,” he says. Makoto's laugh is quiet.

“Thanks for not giving up,” he says kindly. He leaves out 'this time' and Haru is grateful. He hums something noncommittal back. Makoto flips on the radio and they ride comfortably as Makoto drives them to a furniture store downtown. They look around for half an hour before Makoto slumps in a display armchair. Haru nudges his foot with his own. Makoto looks up at him and smiles tiredly.

“I'm hopeless at this, they're all starting to look the same to me,” Makoto whines. Haru scoffs.

“Seriously, Haru, what do I pick?” Haru considers him for a second and looks back around the show room.

“Leather?” he asks. “It'd be easier to clean,” he adds.

“Okay, good. And?” Makoto sits forward prompting Haru to go on.

“Budget?” Makoto frowns.

“I've been setting money aside for this, so as long as we don't get the most expensive it should be fine.” Haru nods, trying to ignore the way Makoto used 'we'.

“That one?” Haru points one out. It was a pretty basic sofa, but it was one of the longer ones. Haru doesn't think Makoto could really stretch out on many of them. Makoto flops down on the one Haru's picked and groans. Haru looks away.

“Think it will fit?” Makoto asks without opening his eyes. Haru eyes the measurements on the tag. He sits down next to Makoto and sketches it out into Makoto's living room. Makoto sits up and looks over his shoulder. Haru glances at him, startled by his proximity. Makoto doesn't notice. His breath ghosts over Haru's shoulder and he shivers.

“I like it. I'll get the chair too,” Makoto says after a second. Haru just nods.

“Coffee table?” he asks, getting to his feet and putting some distance between them.

“Uh, the one that comes with it?” Makoto asks. Haru frowns. The table set up in front of it was terrible. Makoto laughs and stands up.

“Okay okay,” he says smiling at Haru. “Pick me a better one?” Haru takes pity on him and leads him through the store, picking out something at least in the same color family.

An hour passes, and they've picked out a living room. Well, Haru's picked most of it, but he doesn't mind. The thought of what Makoto would have come home with on his own is amusing but also a little nauseating. Haru sits in a chair as Makoto goes over the purchase with a sales representative. He wonders just how much of Makoto's money he ended up spending. He sketches a few furniture arrangements out while he waits.

“I like that one,” Makoto says, shadow appearing over Haru. Haru snaps his sketchbook shut with a clap, and Makoto laughs, rubbing his neck.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle you,” he says. Haru sighs.

“Sorry. I'm not used to having people watch me,” he says. Makoto looks sad for a second.

“That's too bad, Haru. I always liked watching you draw,” he says. Haru stands up and straightens his bag. He tries to remember the last time he let anyone see anything he wasn't finished with. Most days, he doesn't even like showing his finished work. Maybe he'll make an exception for Makoto.

“Anyway,” Makoto's voice draws him back. “The wood stuff comes disassembled in boxes so I can take it back in the truck and build it at home. But they have to ship me the sofa and chair.” Haru frowns.

“When will you get it?” Makoto runs a hand through his hair.

“In a couple days, but they're not sure exactly which day,” he says, troubled.

“And?” Haru prompts. Makoto hesitates.

“And... I'll probably be at work when it arrives. They can't just leave it in my driveway so...” He looks at the ceiling, clearly trying to solve it. Haru taps his toe against the floor.

“I could come let them in?” That was pretty bold for Haru. “If you're okay with it, I could watch Mariko and let them in,” he amends. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Haru...” Makoto says in wonder. “Are you sure you're okay with that? Mariko can be a handful,” he says concern written all over his face. He didn't turn Haru down though, so he tries again.

“I've been reading so... I think I can handle it,” he admits. Makoto looks surprised.

“What about your work? You might have to come over a few days in a row.”

“I can bring my work. It's no trouble,” he says. Makoto smiles softly at him.

“Thank you, Haru, but I can't just ask you-”

“You can.” Haru interrupts firmly. He wants to help Makoto. He wills Makoto to understand. Makoto stares at him for a moment, lips pressed and eyebrows drawn together. It's a look Haru remembers well, and it means Makoto is trying to read him. Haru tries to let him. After another agonizing second, Makoto's face blooms into a broad smile.

“Thank you Haru. It would be a great help,” he says. Haru's heart falters. He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. He's saved from answering when the sales rep returns with Makoto's receipt. He folds it and tucks it in his wallet before Haru can see.

Outside, Makoto backs the truck into a loading bay, and jumps out to help the workers load long heavy looking cardboard boxes into the bed. Haru tries to help but one of the workers brushes him off and makes a joke about how they should just hire Makoto. Makoto doesn't break a sweat, which somehow makes Haru feel warm.

Truck loaded, they head home. The radio is on a top 40 station, quietly singing in the background only just louder than the hum of the engine. Haru relaxes into his seat, and watches the city pass by from his window. It was nice. Haru can't remember the last time he had just enjoyed someone's company like this. He sneaks glances at Makoto whenever he thinks he can get away with it. He drives comfortably, like the truck was built for him. He doesn't panic at yellow lights like Haru thought he might, but then, he was still layering the high school Makoto on this one. He waves people forward and lets them merge in with a flash of his smile, and Haru thinks that part will never change.

They're almost back to Makoto's house and Haru is lost in thought watching out his window. He catches a flash of orange before a screeching lurch throws him towards the windshield. He looks over at Makoto wildly, trying to catch his breath. Makoto he hunched over the steering wheel, one hand gripped so tight his knuckles are white. The other hand... Haru's breath catches in his throat. The other arm extends out to Haru, his palm flat against Haru's chest, pressing him firmly to the back of the seat. Now that he's aware of it, he can't notice anything else.

“Haru, are you okay?” Makoto's voice comes, a little breathless himself. Haru wonders if he can feel his heart rapidly beating through his shirt.

“Yeah,” he says, not trusting himself to say more. Makoto relaxes, his arm going limply to the seat between them. Haru exhales.

“Christ, that scared me,” Makoto says, edge of an unsteady laugh tinting his voice. Haru's heart rate spikes all over again. He looks at Makoto like he's grown a second head. _Makoto swore?_ Haru felt light headed.

“Sorry Haru,” Makoto continues, catching his breath. “That cat came out of nowhere.” The orange flash he had seen falls into place. Makoto must have slammed on the brakes when it ran across the street, and his hand had shot out to brace Haru.

“You okay?” he asks. Makoto starts and looks at him.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I didn't hit him so, yeah.” Makoto follows Haru's gaze down to his hand resting on the seat. Haru quickly looks away. He looks back when Makoto starts laughing.

“I can't believe I _mom'd_ you,” he says, still laughing. Haru blanches. Makoto laughs the rest of the ride home.

They make it back to Makoto's without further incident, and Haru holds the door open while Makoto lugs the boxes inside. He grabs a tool box from somewhere inside the garage and the get to work assembling the new furniture. Haru reads the instructions and keeps track of screws from a bar stool while Makoto sits on the floor and builds. At some point, Haru gets up and puts the kettle on. He opens a few empty cupboards until he finds the mugs and brings the drinks back, making the first coffee for the newly constructed coffee table. He still doesn't know how Makoto can drink it black.

Makoto's nearly done with the last piece when his stomach growls loud enough for Haru to hear it. Haru looks down at him questioningly.

“I might be hungry?” He says sheepishly and Haru rolls his eyes. He heads back into the kitchen.

“Haru?” Makoto calls from the living room. Haru opens the fridge. White expanse broken only by half a quart of milk, a row of protein shakes, and a six pack of beer greet him. He closes the door and opens it again in disbelief. The same depressing sight meets him. He pulls open the freezer. Ice, a couple of frozen dinners and a gallon of ice cream. He slams it shut. He goes for what he thinks is the pantry next. He finds some rice, cereal, instant curry and rows of baby food.

 

“Makoto.” He hears from the kitchen. Makoto puts his almost completed furniture down and pokes his head in.

“..Yes?” he says, unsure. Haru stands in front of his pantry, and slowly turns around. His eyes are wide and a little unfocused. Makoto swallows.

“Haru?” he asks nervously. Haru blinks up at him slowly.

“There's no mackerel or vegetables or... There's no _anything_ ,” he says waving an arm to encompass the whole kitchen. Makoto catches his eyes again and something swells inside him. Haru looks lost, and it's kind of _cute_. The laugh escapes him and Haru snaps out of it, settling into a glare. Makoto laughs harder. He missed this.

“Sorry, Haru-chan you just--” He cuts himself off, hand darting up to cover his mouth. Haru's eyes go wide and his mouth parts slightly before he snaps his head to the side. Makoto catches the color blooming over his cheeks. _Crap_ , he thinks, _we were doing so well and I ruined it._

“...s'fine,” Haru mutters and doesn't look at him. Makoto must be hearing things. He gapes for a second, but no correction comes. He lets his hand drop from his face. He thinks, maybe, Haru doesn't want to ruin it either.

“I missed you, Haru-chan,” he says quietly. His heart aches. Haru's eyes flash up to him and back down.

“Me too,” he says. Slowly he looks up at Makoto, tiny smile framing his face. Makoto wants to shout. He wants to lift Haru up and spin him around like Mariko. He feels his face splitting in half with his own smile. His stomach growls again, and he swears he can hear Haru stifle a laugh.

“Let's go,” Haru says, already heading to the door. Makoto tilts his head.

“I'll cook,” he calls out behind him. Energized, Makoto grabs the keys off the counter and nearly skips after him. Two mugs sit in the sink, forgotten.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need help, Rin, I think I broke her,” Haru's voice comes out rushed and higher than normal.  
> “What.” Rin's voice is too level for it to even be a question. He was never really a morning person.

“I fed her already, but she'll probably be hungry in a couple hours. There's baby food and cereal--”

“Got it,” Haru interrupts.

“Ah, I changed her once already but, well. You sure you can handle it?” Makoto asks, cringing a little.

“Yeah.”

“Oh and I wrote down the number for the station, if anything happens you can call me, or if I'm not available--  
“Got it, call someone,”

“I'll write down my parents number too, just in case.”

“Fine,” Haru stretches until he hears his shoulders pop.

“Her favorite toy is that--”

“Kangaroo, got it.” Really. Makoto's gone over everything at least twice. Haru doesn't know how he has the energy. While it was all Haru could manage to stumble his way to the train station early enough to get to Makoto's on time without forgetting his bag, Makoto had been going strong for hours.

“There's a first aid kit in the bathroom over here--”

“ _Makoto_ ,” Haru yawns. Makoto smiles apologetically.

“Sorry. I know, I just worry,” Haru scoffs at him. Makoto smiles brightly.

“Okay, sorry I'm going,” he brushes his hand through Mariko's hair. Haru gives him a pointed look.

“I'm _going_ , really,” he ducks down to kiss the top of her head, and Haru gets a lung full of the smell of Makoto's shampoo. Before he can put it to words, Makoto's straightening up and shrugging a bag over his shoulder.

“Thank you Haru, I'll be back tonight,” Haru nods, fighting off another yawn. The door clicks quietly behind Makoto, and a moment later he hears the truck rumble to life and pull off. He looks down at Mariko in his arms. She looks as sleepy as Haru feels. Haru carefully sits her down in her chair and fills the kettle from the tap. A few pops later and he sinks down into a chair to wait for his water to boil.

Mariko watches his with wide green eyes and Haru watches right back. He had been almost _eager_ to volunteer to watch her, but now reality was staring him down and he wasn't so sure. He brought his book with him, just in case. For now, he just wants a cup of hot tea to help him wake up, then he'll figure out what to do for the rest of the day. He lets his head fall back on his shoulders, enjoying the peace after his rushed morning. It was quiet, and having Mariko eases the loneliness he might have felt otherwise.

A shrill whistle fills the room, letting Haru know the water has come to a boil. He winces at the sound. Mariko _screams_. Haru whirls around to look at her, twisting his neck painfully. She bursts into ear piercing wails and tears. _Shit_. Panicking, he tries to take the kettle off the heat, only to knock it over, extinguishing the flames with a hiss. _Shit._ Mariko keeps screaming. Haru yelps when the water sloshes over him. Mariko keeps screaming. Haru dives into his bag and grabs his phone with trembling hands. Makoto hasn't even been gone for five minutes. He tosses his phone back down.

He tries to pick Mariko up, but she's flailing her arms around so wildly Haru's not sure how to get a hold of her. It's awkward and unfamiliar to him, and she picks up on it. She cries harder. _How are her lungs this strong?_ He thinks numbly. She starts struggling, and Haru gives up before he hurts her. He picks his phone back up and punches in Rin's number. He doesn't remember the last time he's actually called him.

Rin doesn't pick up until the seventh ring, and Haru feels himself starting to hyperventilate with the waiting. He nearly yells into the microphone.

“I need help, Rin, I think I broke her,” Haru's voice comes out rushed and higher than normal.

“What.” Rin's voice is too level for it to even be a question. He was never really a morning person.

_“Rin!”_

“No seriously, what are you talking about?” Haru groans and taps on the speaker phone icon.

“ _Listen,_ ” he holds the phone out to Mariko, who doesn't disappoint and lets out a fresh chorus of wails.

“Ow, okay okay I got it Haru!” Haru picks it back up. “Where's Makoto?”

“Work, Rin what do I do?”

“Okay, try the kangaroo, pick her up, that sort of thing,” Rin says, infuriatingly calm. Haru runs to the living room to get the kangaroo anyway. He holds it out to Mariko, who doesn't seem to notice. He waves it in front of her. Nothing changes.

“Haru...”

“...it's not working,”

“Haru are you just standing there, staring at her with the kangaroo?” Haru doesn't say anything.

“Oh for fucks sake Haru! Pick her up, and _talk to her_!” Rin hangs up on him. Haru would be more offended if he could hear himself think. He tries to pick her up again, and tucks the kangaroo under his arm with her.

“Mariko,” he tries. She pauses to take a breath, fearing a fresh scream, Haru squeezes her to his chest.

“Shh,” he says quietly. “Shh, Macchan.” She hiccups on her breath and looks at him with red eyes. It seems to work, so Haru tries again.

“I'm sorry I scared you, Macchan.” She still sobs, but she's running out of steam now.

“It's okay,” he says calmly as he can. “You scared me too.” She relaxes into his arms by increments, like she's still deciding if she wants to be upset or not. Haru shifts her into one arm, and uses his free hand to brush her hair back from her face. Minutes pass, and Haru feels like his arms might fall off, but she finally settles down against him, snuggling into the kangaroo.

Haru sinks down to the floor, his back resting against the oven door. He realizes too late that he's sitting in a puddle from the kettle water. He sighs and taps his head against the oven, and a small stream trickles down his face. Mariko giggles. Haru opens one eye and looks down at her. Water drips down his face, one fat drop landing on hers. She laughs again.

“You think that's funny?” He says amused. She babbles something nonsensical back at him. Haru snorts.

“Think your dad would let me borrow some clothes?” She makes the bubble noise and tugs the kangaroo closer to her. He takes it as an affirmative. Makoto _had_ told him to use anything he needed after all.

“Okay,” he says. He manages to get to his feet with Mariko, and heads up the stairs. Makoto had given him a forty second tour that morning, but he still hadn't really looked around. He knew there were two bedrooms upstairs, a linen closet with a washer and dryer, and the bathroom connected to Makoto's room. He goes to Makoto's door first.

Sunlight filters in through the slats in Makoto's blinds, washing the room in early morning light. Haru watches the dust float in the light for a second, transfixed by the color. Mariko wiggles in his arms and brings him back. His eyes sweep over rumpled bed and moving box nightstand before landing on the crib set up off one side. He sets Mariko down among at least a dozen stuffed animals. Mariko remains blissfully quiet, flopping down with her friends. Haru picks the door he remembers opens to a closet and opens it.

Makoto's room is a full-fledged master suite, and Haru's reminded of that again when Makoto's closet is bigger than his entire bathroom back in his apartment. Empty clothing rods and shelves line the walls and Haru frowns. It seems the entirety of Makoto's clothes are either in the hamper in the corner, or in the pathetic group hanging right inside the door. He flips through the shirts hanging and settles on the smallest looking t-shirt. He snags a pair of sweat pants from a shelf and drags the hamper behind him out to the laundry closet.

He tosses Makoto's clothes in the wash, pausing to roll his soaked jeans and shirt off to add them in. He slips into his borrowed clothes, frowning at how they hang off him. Reluctantly he leans down to roll up the hems of the pants. Even shortened, they swallow him whole. Sighing, he digs around for detergent. Makoto apparently uses a hypoallergenic detergent, and Haru almost misses it. He adds it to the wash and sets it to a quick wash. He hopes. The washing machine hums to life and he heads back to Makoto's room.

Mariko is cheerfully playing in her stuffed animals, laughing and keening to them in her own non-language. Haru sits on the edge of the bed and watches her. She seems to have completely forgotten about being so upset only minutes ago. He sighs and falls back on the mattress. He realizes his mistake as soon as he inhales. Wrapped in his clothes, lying on his bed, Haru is overwhelmed with Makoto's scent. He hadn't noticed earlier, more concerned with getting dry and figuring out the laundry. But now, his mind is blank and like an anchor cast into the ocean, thoughts of Makoto are pulling him under.

He's already in too deep, so he rolls over and tugs one of Makoto's pillows down and buries his face in it. He can't inhale enough of it. He can pick out hints of something deep and musky, and the faint warmth of vanilla. He can feel himself relaxing into it, and he curls up around the pillow on his side. Haru can hear the hum of the washing machine from the hall and soft mumbling from Mariko. It's peaceful. Haru drifts off, wondering why his own apartment never felt this secure.

 

An hour later, Haru wakes up slowly to the sound of the washing machine beeping. He chases the ends of his dreams, but they slip away and the more awake he becomes, the less he remembers. He blinks for a second before remembering where he is. He sits up and frowns at Makoto's pillow still wrapped in his arms. He tosses it back to the top of the bed and stretches. Mariko is sleeping peacefully. Haru finds one of her animals on the floor, and gently tucks it back in with her.

He pads out to the laundry closet and tosses the load into the dryer. He heads back to the kitchen, and mops up the remaining water with paper towels. He settles on some apple juice this time, not wanting to risk a second coming of Mariko's wrath. He grabs his bag and goes back to Makoto's room. The light on his phone flashes lazily at him, and he opens it to a text from Rin. _'How's Macchan?'_ Haru sits back on the bed with his bag. _'Sleeping'_ Send. He opens the screen back up. _'Thank you'_ he sends. _'Yeah, well, whatever. Call me if anything happens'_ he gets back. Haru wonders if Rin is blushing.

He tosses his phone on the bed and pulls out his sketchbook. He pulls out his pencil case and leaves it open next to him. He had a couple pieces he needed to finish back in his apartment, but there was no way he was lugging the canvas, paints, easel and everything else all the way out here. So instead, he sketches out what he'll paint later.

When the dryer beeps at the end of the cycle, Haru frowns at the clothes he pulls out. A lot of Makoto's clothes seem well worn and some even have holes. He stares a minute too long at one particular pair of jeans trying to decide if the rips and tears are intentional or not. He really can't afford to think about Makoto wearing them at the moment, so he quickly tosses them and the rest of the laundry in the hamper.

He stares at his own clothes when he pulls them out of the dryer. On the one hand, they actually fit him, but on the other hand... He sighs and tugs on his jeans, but he leaves Makoto's shirt on. He'll take it off before Makoto gets back. Probably.

He sketches the next few hours away on Makoto's bed, sketching out nothing and anything only putting his pencil down when Mariko starts to stir and wake up. He watches as she rolls around to blink up at him.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Ba,” he gets back. He stares blankly at her. She seems to expect something.

“Ba?” he tries. She breaks into a peal of laughter and waves her arms above her head. Shaking his head, he picks her up. He realizes with dread what she needs next. He glances longingly at his phone and briefly considers calling Rin for back up. No, he said he could handle it, so he'll handle it. He digs out his book.

Amazingly, Mariko doesn't fuss or cry but just quietly makes faces at him as he changes her. Even though it was his first time, he's fairly confident he did everything right. He takes the waste straight to the garbage bin in the garage, not wanting it in the house. He cleans after himself and washes his hands twice. Mariko only coos at him.

They end up back in the kitchen when Haru's stomach rebels. He's sharply reminded he had skipped breakfast in order to make his train. He looks at Mariko, guessing she was probably getting hungry too.

“You can't just eat cereal all the time,” he tells her.

“Ma ga,” she tells him.

 _“Hopeless,”_ he mutters under his breath. He pulls open the fridge to make them lunch, grateful he had managed to get some groceries into the house the day before. The memory of Makoto's bare pantry still makes him shiver. He decides on rice balls with the leftovers from last night. He fills a sippy cup with juice and sets it in front of Mariko. She grabs it up eagerly and even manages to get most of it in her mouth. He leaves her to her juice and falls into a comfortable cooking routine. This, at least, he was familiar with.

He tries not to make a face when he holds out a finished rice ball to Mariko and she drools on his fingers. He eats his own with his dry hand. He doesn't bother trying to make tea again, and settles for water. It's not what he's used to, but it wasn't exactly uncomfortable either. Haru tries not to think too hard about that.

They finish lunch, and Haru digs around in the baby bag looking for something for Mariko to do. In a side pocket he finds a big paper pad and a box of crayons. _Perfect,_ he thinks, flipping through pages of vibrant squiggles. He pulls the box of crayons out and frowns. Those couldn't really be _RoseArt_ crayons. _Who would buy Mariko RoseArt?_ He opens the box and dumps them on her little counter.

“You deserve better,” he says with distaste. _RoseArt._ He shakes his head. “Your father should be ashamed.”

“Gam ah!” She chirps back at him. She grabs a crayon like a knife and spears it on her paper. Blue streaks across and she laughs happily at it. Haru finds himself smiling with her. For a long time, he just watches her. Occasionally she holds crayons out to him, and he adds a couple of lines in before she takes over.

Hours pass, and Haru finds himself yawning again. Makoto's shifts were _long._ Makoto had told him that he was on shorter twelve hours shifts now and Haru felt exhausted just thinking about it. When Haru checks the clock, he only has an hour before Makoto was off. He stands up from the table and rolls his shoulders. Makoto had left money for Haru to order food, but he had no intention of using it.

When the door creaks open nearly two hours later, Haru's finished cooking dinner and is trying to get Mariko to eat soup. It keeps dribbling out of her mouth, and he's nearly ready to give up. Makoto walks around the corner and she lights up immediately.

“It smells amazing in here Haru!” Makoto's smile hasn't lost a single watt. Haru nods back in greeting. Makoto drops his bag with a thud and lifts Mariko up in the air. Haru's arms still ache from carrying her up and down the stairs, and he gives Makoto a look when his back is turned.

“I'm home Macchan! Were you good for Haru today?” He asks, rubbing his face over hers. She squeals when he spins around with her, and babbles rapidly back to him.

“Wow, Haru, she's in a really good mood, huh?” Makoto turns that smile back on Haru and he warms.

“She was good,” he says, not knowing what to really say. “Hungry?”

“I am now, thanks to you,” Makoto laughs. Haru turns around to dish him a bowl and hide his face. Makoto sits at the table, Mariko in his lap. When Haru looks at him, he catches a warmth in his eyes and feels the heat go to his cheeks. He slides a bowl over to Makoto.

“Thank you Haru,” he says, eyes soft. Haru looks away.

“It didn't come today,” he says. Makoto blinks at him, spoon halfway to his lips.

“The sofa,” Haru says. _What else?_ Makoto blinks once more before understanding snaps across his face.

“Duh,” he says laughing. Something else flickers through, but Haru can't put his finger on it so he shrugs it off.

“I can come back tomorrow,” he says. Makoto frowns for a second before catching Haru's eyes. For a fraction of a second, Haru feels the same kind of understanding they used to have in high school. Makoto's frown melts away, and when he looks into his soup his eyes are almost glittering.

“Thank you,” he says. Haru scoots his chair closer. Makoto moans around his first bite, and Haru forces himself to believe that it was just _culinary pride_ that sent a ripple down through his gut.

Makoto offers to drive him home that night, but Haru turns him down. He wants the brisk night air and the time alone with his thoughts. Much like the first night he left Makoto's house, Makoto stands inside the door holding Mariko to wave goodbye. It gives Haru a warm feeling in his stomach, and it's not until he gets on the train that he realizes he's still wearing Makoto's shirt. Face burning red, he buries his nose into the collar and rides the rest of the way back breathing in Makoto's scent.

 

Makoto closes the door behind Haru's retreating back and quietly slides the bolt into the lock. Honestly, he had been a little nervous leaving Mariko with Haru for a whole day. He didn't underestimate Haru, especially when he puts his mind to something, but he had never really pegged Haru for a babysitting type. He worries Haru was probably dead bored the whole time.

He flips lights off and heads upstairs. The door to the laundry was open, and he closes it absently. He changes Mariko, and chokes down a laugh at the thought of Haru changing a diaper. He dresses Mariko for bed before stripping down himself. He goes to throw his clothes in the hamper and quirks his head at it. He thought he had more laundry to do than that.

It isn't until he falls back on his bed that it hits him that Haru had played with his daughter all day, _done his laundry_ , and cooked him dinner. He can feel a little blush creeping up on him at the thought. A month ago, he and Haru didn't speak. He's smiling so hard his face starts to hurt. He starts to let himself think that, maybe, he really does have his best friend back. He grabs his phone and flips to Haru's number. _'You did my laundry! :)'_ Send. He laughs out loud to himself, imagining the face Haru would make at that.

Haru texts back surprisingly quick. _'Your machine has too many buttons'_ it says. Makoto snorts. He had thought the same thing when he got it. _'Thanks for giving it a shot then'_ he sends back. Seconds too late he realizes it has a double meaning, and quickly sends _'Did you make it back okay?'_ to change the topic. Haru takes three full minutes to respond.

 _'Just now, yeah'_ Makoto sighs in relief. _'Okay, thanks for everything today Haru'_ Send. _'Sure'_ Makoto shakes his head. _'I'll see you tomorrow'_ he sends back, yawning. Mariko is already fast asleep. _'Yeah goodnight'_ he gets. _'Goodnight Haru'_ he sends. Makoto's smile doesn't fade even in his sleep.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru groans. He had imagined it. There was no way Makoto had been about to _kiss_ him.

Haru comes prepared the next morning with a change of clothes, his laptop, and spare books among other things. In the end he ended up bringing a large backpack instead of his usual bag. Makoto opens the door for him and watches as Haru thumps it down on the kitchen counter. Mariko chirps at his arrival. Haru smiles at her. She was growing on him.

“Morning Haru,” Makoto smiles at them. Haru hums back, still waking up.

“I made some pancakes, if you’re hungry,” he says, nodding towards the counter. A pile of golden pancakes sit on a plate, and Haru swivels back to look at Makoto.

“What?” Makoto laughs. “Don’t make that face, I told you I can cook some things now.” Haru is sure his disbelief shows on his face. Makoto breaks eye contact and rubs the back of his neck.

“I figured I could at least make you breakfast,” he says, looking away. Haru swallows. It’s suddenly too warm, and he’s too close. He digs a fork out of the drawer and sits down with the pancakes. When he watches Makoto’s eyes light up, he decides to eat every single one.

“Not bad,” he admits between bites. They were honestly better than he expected. Makoto beams.

“Coming from you, that’s pretty good.” Haru pointedly doesn’t look at him. He had been a little early today, and Makoto has a few minutes before he needs to leave. Makoto eases into a chair across from him and coos to Mariko. Haru eats slowly, transfixed with how natural they are together. Makoto makes a good father, but everyone and their mom had had money on that bet. He takes another bite and wonders if his own father had ever been that comfortable with him.

He slams his fork down with a clang. Makoto and Mariko both flinch and look at him. Haru’s eyes go wide, realizing what he’s done, and he sees Mariko gearing up to cry. But before tears can spring forth, Makoto is there, pulling her up in his arms on instinct.

“Sorry,” Haru says, blinking rapidly. Makoto smiles sadly. Haru feels it twist in his gut. He knows something, but Makoto doesn’t push it.

“It’s okay, Haru,” Makoto is doing the thing where his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and Haru hates it.

“I’m fine,” he says. _Drop it, please_ , he adds in his head. He definitely doesn’t want to talk about his parents and ruin his morning. Makoto doesn’t say anything. The moment stretches until Mariko breaks it.

“BA BO,” she says, loudly. Makoto stares at her before breaking into a laugh. Haru relaxes. She really was growing on him. Makoto kisses the top of her head and puts her back in her chair.

“She’s right,” he says laughing. “Do you need anything before I go?” he asks Haru. His smile is back, and Haru breathes easier.

“Wi-Fi password?” He says, unzipping his bag to reveal the edge of his laptop. To Haru’s amusement, Makoto blushes. Haru tilts his head.

“I’ll just write it down for you, okay?” Makoto says, face still red. Haru shrugs. Makoto scribbles something on the paper with the station’s phone number and sets his pen on top of it, making no move to hand it over to Haru. Haru looks at him and Makoto flashes him a nervous smile.

Makoto turns around to grab his shoes, and Haru snatches the note up. He reads _‘Rinsdickisnumber1’_ scrawled under the phone numbers and chokes. Makoto looks back at him over his shoulder and his blush spreads.

“Rin and Sousuke set it up!” Haru snorts.

“I don’t know how to change it,” Makoto complains. Haru uses the paper to cover his face, stifling a laugh. Some things never change.

 _“Haru,”_ Makoto whines. Haru lets a tiny smile form on his face.

“It could be worse?” He offers. Makoto groans and slumps.

“Do not tell them that,” he says with a sigh.

“You’re going to be late,” Haru counters. Makoto peeks up and checks a watch on his wrist. He sighs again.

“Fine, I’m going,” he picks Mariko up for one last hug before smiling back at Haru. Haru notes that the blush hasn’t entirely faded yet.

“Thanks Haru, I’ll see you tonight,” he says and turns to go.

“See you,” he says as the door closes. Mariko and Haru stare at each other.

“Movie?” he asks her. She bounces in her chair. He sets up his laptop, huffing a little laugh when he sees the network name _‘callsousukeforagoodtime’_. He queues up the kids section on Netflix and leaves her to it. He finishes his breakfast and cleans up the kitchen before settling back in a chair. He slides it over to Mariko when she reaches an arm out to him. She reaches again and he picks her up, settling her in his lap. She leans back against him and returns to her cartoons.

Haru feels a smile tugging at his lips. Something about this was so nostalgic. It reminds him of all the nights he’d spent at Makoto’s in school, when it was either Ran or Ren curled up on him watching TV way past their bedtime. His legs would eventually fall asleep, but he had never made them stop. Eventually Makoto would lug them into their room and tuck them in, kissing the tops of their heads the same way he does to Mariko now. Haru stares at the spot on her head.

He sighs and looks back up to his screen, shifting a little. He was going to be stuck like this for a while, so he might as well try to get comfortable and watch it too. He hugs Mariko to his chest, borrowing a little of her warmth.

 

Hours later, while Mariko is curled up on the bed next to Haru reading his book, there’s a knock on the door. Haru’s head shoots up. He had almost forgotten why he was there. He gently transfers Mariko to the crib and heads downstairs.

He opens the door for two men in uniforms to haul in giant boxes. They open them in the living room, and help Haru move them into position. Haru looks them over and finding no defects, signs for them. They look good in Makoto’s living room, and Haru’s pleased with how they match the furniture he picked out.

He falls down on the couch and stares at the ceiling. Makoto would be happy they had arrived in one piece. Makoto wouldn’t need him to come housesit anymore. Haru closes his eyes. Despite the exhaustion he felt the night before; he had enjoyed spending time here. It didn’t stifle him like his little apartment did. The thought of going back to his old routine leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

He wakes Mariko up and brings her downstairs. She lights up at the new furniture, and is happy to crawl all over the sofa when he sets her down on it. He smiles as he watches her play with a stuffed animal. Today it’s a cat. He brings his laptop over, and they watch cat videos until Mariko starts meowing right back at the screen.

The sun is starting to set, and Haru decides to start dinner and moves them to the kitchen. Mariko meows happily to her cat, and Haru cooks. Tonight he makes a pretty simple curry fried rice, and it’s finished quickly. He feeds Mariko out of a baby jar, and after she’s done, he goes for his trump card. He digs in his bag until he pulls out a large box of _Crayola_ crayons, and a couple of coloring books. He opens the crayons for her, who looks in awe at all the colors. Haru smirks to himself. That was much better. It had definitely been worth the weird looks the cashier had given him when he showed up five minutes before close to buy crayons at his usual art supply store.

 

When Makoto comes home, his house smells even better than it had the night before. Haru’s sitting at the table with Mariko in his lap, both of them coloring in a book Makoto doesn't recognize. He leans on the door frame and takes a moment to take the sight in, something easing and uncurling in his chest. Mariko babbles and stretches towards the box of crayons, and Haru deftly picks the one she’s going for and hands it to her without a word. Makoto has a sudden urge to take a picture. He remembers Haru’s dislike for them, and squashes the urge down.

“I’m home,” he says quietly, announcing his presence without disturbing the scene. Haru looks up at him and Makoto swears he can see a little color rush to his face before Mariko steals his attention. She waves fists full of crayons at him until he comes and kneels down next to them.

“Wow, Mariko, that’s really good!” he says looking at the page they had been working on. Originally it must have been an octopus, but half of the page is covered in bright squiggles while Haru’s side is neatly filled in with soft colors. Makoto smiles at it, feeling warm.

“Is Haru teaching you to color?” He asks her. Haru looks away and Mariko bubbles for the both of them. He looks back down at the table and frowns.

“Haru, didn’t she have crayons? You didn’t have to buy her anything,” he says. His brows shoot up when Haru turns a little glare on him.

“She had _RoseArt_ ,” he hisses. Makoto blinks.

“And… those weren’t good enough?” Makoto doesn’t understand, but it clearly means something to Haru.

“ _You_ can use them,” Haru says, like he’s sentencing Makoto for a crime. Makoto laughs and puts his hands up in front of him.

“Alright, you win. Thank you Haru.” Haru blows his hair out of his face and looks down. Makoto knows he’s not good at accepting thanks and doesn’t dwell on it.

“Is that curry?” He asks instead, taking a big sniff and switching tactics. Whatever had upset Haru this morning seems long gone. Makoto’s glad for it.

“Curry rice,” Haru says, finally looking back at him. Makoto can feel his stomach respond at the thought. Curry rice sounds _fantastic_.

“Did you eat yet?” he asks, opening the cupboard to pull out a bowl. Haru shakes his head, and Makoto grabs two. He dishes them dinner and sits next to Haru. His rice is excellent, even better than the soup from the night before.

“This is really good, Haru,” he says between bites. Haru nods without looking at him. They eat in a silence punctuated with Mariko’s ramblings, and Makoto finds himself wishing his dinner would never end. Of course, it doesn’t take long for their bowls to go empty and their stomachs to grow full. Mariko’s nearly covered her coloring book page, and she tugs Makoto’s sleeve to get his attention.

He leans down to get a better look, arm resting across Haru’s thin shoulders. Haru stiffens beneath him, and Makoto writes it off as his general aversion to human contact and wonders if he’s been eating enough. Mariko shoves a crayon in Makoto’s hand, so he obliges her and colors a few lines on the page. Haru relaxes by increments. Mariko grabs the crayon back from Makoto and he chuckles.

“Guess I’m no good,” he says. Haru makes some sound in the back of his throat and Makoto looks up to him. With their faces so close, Makoto can definitely see the pink blooming on Haru’s cheeks. His eyes catch him though, their rough blue as deep as ever. Makoto always felt like he could drown in those eyes, and now as dark lashes blink over them and they dart away, Makoto thinks he wouldn’t mind. He thinks that if he tilted his head just so, their lips would meet and maybe he could watch sparks fly in those blue eyes.

Jerking out of his thoughts, he nearly knocks his chair over with the force of flying back to his seat. His face feels hot. _What the hell?_ His heart races and Haru looks over at him, confused about his abrupt movement. Makoto smiles his best charm-the-old-ladies-in-the-neighborhood smile, and gets to his feet.

“Tea?” he asks, voice cracking and nearly choking on the word. He risks a glance at Haru, and catches a longing look shot towards his kettle.

“Please,” Haru says, giving his attention back to Mariko. He turns back around to the stove and tries to get his heart rate back under control. What was he doing, thinking about _kissing Haru_? He hadn’t had any sort of relationship since Satomi dumped him. And _Haru_? Haru had never shown any interest, in anyone, in that way. Makoto groans internally. He really was an idiot.

When Haru appears next to him, he nearly jumps out of his skin and screams internally. Haru only stares at him. Makoto smiles back nervously at him as Haru watches the kettle intently. Makoto hears the bubbles forming against the kettle walls, and flicks the flame off. Haru passes him mugs and Makoto pulls down the tea box.

Tea made, Haru takes his mug and inclines his head towards the other room. Makoto hugs Mariko up in one arm and follows him with his own tea in his other hand. He stops in his tracks as his living room comes into view, totally transformed. The sofa and chair he had picked out with Haru a few days ago sit in the middle, and Haru gingerly sits on the arm. For the first time, one of the daunting empty rooms of his house looks like a home, and Makoto thinks about wrapping Haru in a hug too.

But when he looks back at Haru, he’s frowning into his mug. Makoto mirrors him.

“It looks great,” he says carefully.  Haru shoots him an indescribable look. Makoto moves closer and lets himself flop down on the sofa next to Haru. It feels better than the one in the showroom had, and he easily sinks into it. Mariko bounces on his lap before crawling over to Haru and tugging on him. Haru sets his mug on the coffee table, and slides down on the couch properly. Makoto watches as she crawls into his lap, and he runs a hand through her hair. He smiles to himself and takes a drink.

“She seems to really like you,” he says. Haru looks at him, weighing his words.

“She’s not so bad,” he says, absently petting her head. Makoto smiles. Haru follows his line of sight and frowns at his hand, slowly stilling it. Like a light bulb flipping on, Makoto thinks he understands why Haru looks like a kicked puppy. He gives him an opening.

“Ah, this means I’ll need to find someone for the next two days, huh? I’m sure you want your life back,” he says, watching Haru for his reaction. As he predicted, Haru shoots him a hopeful look and looks away, chewing on his lip. Makoto feels his heart surge when Haru speaks.

“I can come back,” he says nonchalantly. Makoto hears the unsaid, _‘I want to come back’_ and smiles wider.

“I’d appreciate it,” he says. Haru smiles softly, and Makoto feels lighter. He had thought he’d gotten over his and Haru’s estrangement years ago, but he’s only really been feeling the weight lift from his shoulders over the last couple weeks. He had always kept himself busy surrounded with new and old friends alike, and never let himself recognize the hollow space by his side.

Now, Haru sits just a few inches from him, and it’s like finding the final piece to a puzzle he had given up on years ago. The gap has been steadily closing ever since Haru walked back into his life and Makoto is excited for it to disappear completely. Haru senses Makoto staring and looks over at him, his dark hair feathered across his face. Makoto idly wonders if Haru had brought his shirt back today.

“What’s with that face?” he says, frowning. Makoto doesn’t know what sort of face he’s making, but he doesn’t feel like changing it. Instead he stretches out and closes the distance between them when he relaxes back into the cushions. Haru goes very still but doesn’t protest.

“I’m just really happy,” he says honestly. One delicate brow arches and asks the question Haru doesn’t put the effort into voicing. Makoto doesn’t answer him out loud and just smiles back at him. Haru’s eyes widen a fraction, and he swiftly looks away again. He takes a sip of his tea, and Makoto feels him loosening ever so slightly.

“Me too,” he says quietly. When he peeks back up at Makoto, his eyes are shining. He nudges his knee into Haru’s. Haru presses his back so lightly that Makoto might have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. _Oh no, that’s cute,_ Makoto thinks. He lets his head fall back against the sofa and laughs.

_I am so screwed._

Makoto waves from the driver’s seat and drives off as Haru climbs the stairs to his apartment. He had stayed late, and Makoto had all but insisted he give Haru a lift home. Haru didn’t really have it in him to argue. It was better than the train anyway. Haru had thought he would never get used to the idea of Makoto driving, but he settled right into the truck this time, watching Makoto strap a drooping Mariko into a baby seat in the back. It was comfortable, and Haru missed the warmth of the cab immediately.

He opens his door and drops his bag in the entry. He wasn’t as tired as he had been the first day, but he was still worn out. He shivers, and runs his hands over his arms. He turns the thermostat up a couple degrees before falling on his unmade bed.

He had been babysitting for only a few days, and already his apartment was showing signs of neglect. It was probably a good thing Makoto hadn’t had anything in his house when he got Mariko. For the hundredth time, he wonders how Makoto had managed. He chews his lip and rolls on to his side. He could probably ask Makoto himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to cross that line quite yet.

Besides, though Makoto would never say it himself, whenever Haru thinks about asking how he did it all on his own, he can’t help but hear _‘you weren’t there to help’_ ring in his head. Haru sighs. Makoto had just told him he was happy hadn’t he? Haru knew enough about Makoto to tell he hadn’t meant just having Haru babysit.

He wishes he knew everything about Makoto, and could tell what the rest of it meant. Did he just mean he was happy to be friends with Haru again? The memory of Makoto’s firm arm draped over his shoulders as he colored with Mariko surges in his mind. Makoto had turned to him, and their faces had been so close Haru’s heart had stopped. For a second it had almost looked like Makoto might lean in and...

Haru groans. He had imagined it. There was no way Makoto had been about to _kiss_ him. Makoto always holds himself back, emotionally _and_ physically. It had been one of the things Haru had appreciated about him the most when they were children. While Nagisa would shamelessly hang off him and even Rin would grab him by the shoulders or waist, Makoto quietly kept his hands to himself. It wasn’t until years later that Haru had understood it was because Makoto didn’t want to hurt anyone rather than an aversion to contact.

Haru blinks slowly at the ceiling. He wonders if Makoto ever felt lonely back then. Even as a child he had been more worried about hurting others than getting or giving any kind of affection for himself. It was painfully clear to Haru now, and he hates that he hadn’t seen it then.

Rin was right. He has no idea what Makoto has been through. He pulls out his phone. _‘Make it back?’_ he sends. He gets up and gets ready for bed, brushes his teeth and slips into Makoto’s shirt. It still smells a little like him. Haru can always bring it back later.

He’s easing between his cold sheets when Makoto responds. He sends a picture of Mariko tucked in her crib, cat toy clutched to her face with _‘the kangaroo has competition :)’_ written underneath. Haru smiles, thinking Rin won’t be too happy about that.

Haru sits against his headboard and tugs his blanket up and over him. His apartment seems so quiet. He picks up his phone and hits call. Makoto picks up before the second ring.

“Haru? Are you okay?” Makoto’s voice is full of worry.

“I’m fine,” he says. He can hear Makoto exhale in relief.

“Jeez, don’t scare me like that.” Haru smiles.

“Sorry.” He hears blankets rustling, and pictures Makoto climbing into his bed.  

“Did you forget something?” Haru pulls the blanket closer around him.

“Sort of,” he says.

“Hm?” Makoto hums questioningly.

“Makoto,” he starts. He swallows down the urge to just tell him to nevermind.

“You don’t have to keep holding yourself back around me,” he says quietly. There’s a pause before Makoto answers.

“Haru?” he sounds strained. Haru frowns.

“If something’s bothering you, you can tell me,” he says and wishes he had said it years ago.

“Thank you, Haru.” Makoto says gently.

“That means a lot to me.” Haru can almost hear the smile, and kind of wishes he had waited to say it to him in person. He hums into his receiver, not knowing what else to say now that he got that out.

“Haru?”

“Hm?”

“You can always talk to me, too. I know you don’t like to, but I’d be happy to listen. You know that, right?” Makoto asks, voice low and calm. Haru closes his eyes and he imagines what Makoto’s face must look like right now. His eyes would be that shining green, steady and full of sincerity. Haru wishes he could see him.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. If only. Somehow he doesn’t think he can really talk to Makoto about his biggest problem at the moment, since it was Makoto himself.

“Are we good?” Makoto asks and Haru wants to laugh. They were great. Haru misses him already.

“Yeah. We’re good,” he says, feeling lighter. He hears Makoto yawn.

“You going to bed?” he asks. Haru sinks down on his side, still wrapped up tight in his blankets.

“Yeah,” he says, yawning himself. After that, he’s suddenly exhausted.

“Me too. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Okay.” He can hear Makoto settling into his own bed.

“Goodnight Makoto,” he says wishing he had an excuse to keep him on the phone.

“Goodnight Haru.” He hears the line click off a few seconds later, and doesn’t move. He falls asleep dreaming of vibrant greens and soft words.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey assholes, I _can_ hear you.”  
>  “Rin, if my daughter's first word is 'asshole', I'm calling Lori.” Rin gapes.  
> “You wouldn't,” he says, mouth still hanging open.  
> “I'll help translate,” Sousuke offers.

Haru's arm snakes out from under the blankets when the alarm on his phone goes off. He pats around blindly on his bed for it, refusing to open his eyes. The tips of his fingers brush it and he hears it thump to the floor. He pulls his pillow over his head. When it does little to muffle the increasing volume on his alarm, he throws it to the foot of his bed and glares at his phone.

After another minute, he can't take it anymore and reluctantly drags himself out of bed. Shivering in the morning cold, he turns his alarm off and sits back on the edge of his bed. He cradles his phone in his hands, blinking slowly as he adjusts to the dim light from his window. With a sigh, he sets it back down and strips off Makoto's shirt and heads to the shower.

The hot water running over him helps him wake a little, but he still tries to use his shampoo for body wash before he realizes what he's doing. He showers quickly, and gives himself a full two minutes to just stand under the stream and enjoy the heat washing over him. He still prefers baths, but he had lost that luxury when he had moved into his apartment. He wonders if Makoto has a proper tub in his bathroom.

He's still groggy as he gets dressed, so he gives himself a quick once over in front of his mirror. His sweater and the shirt underneath aren't backwards or inside out, even if they do hang off him a little looser than they probably should. He drags a hand through his still damp hair and tugs out a few loose tangles with his fingers. He pushes his bangs up and off his face, and tries a smile. His reflection looks ridiculous. He shakes his hair back out and heads to the door.

He sits in his entrance to put his shoes on, yawning as deft fingers tie up the laces with ease. Maybe Makoto made breakfast again today. He slings his bag over a shoulder and unlocks his door. His hand freezes on the doorknob. _Oh_ , he thinks belatedly.

This was Makoto's first day off from his work week. He didn't need Haru to come watch Mariko, and when they had parted the night before Haru couldn't come up with an excuse to come back the next day. Makoto had laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, and told him to enjoy his day off.

Haru sits back down and watches water drip off his bangs and soak into his pants. It had only been a week, but it had already become a habit for Haru to get up early and catch the train to Makoto's. Now he was faced with an entire unplanned day, and the emptiness of it daunted him. He had no idea what to do with himself. What did he normally do with his time anyway? Besides work, Haru couldn't think of anything in particular. When had he become so introverted?

He slips his shoes off and wanders back inside, eventually settling on his bed. It wasn't as comfortable as Makoto's. He scoots back and leans against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. When he feels himself slowly drifting off, he doesn't fight it.

 

Makoto adjusts his glasses as he scrolls through headlines. He had let himself lounge in bed a whole hour longer than usual, and now he sits with his coffee leisurely catching up on local news. He hopes Haru is enjoying a chance to sleep in. He doesn't always plan out his off days, and today he feels like just taking it as it comes.

The last couple days had gone by smoothly with Haru stumbling his way through Makoto's door just before he rushes out of it, passing Mariko between them like a giggling baton. He glances over at her sleeping form and smiles. Haru was growing more and more comfortable with her, and Makoto could already tell Mariko liked him too. He hopes Rin doesn't get too upset.

As if on cue, Makoto's phone vibrates next to him. He opens it to a picture of a grinning Rin yanking a mostly annoyed Sousuke down to fit him in the shot. _'Guess who's back, back again'_ it says across the bottom half. A second text comes quickly, _'lunch in Iwatobi. Bring my favorite god daughter, it's time to break Sousuke's weak heart'_ Makoto laughs. As if Rin had any others. His phone buzzes again, this time from Sousuke. _'My heart is fine, don't listen to him'_ Makoto laughs and texts them back, already stretching and standing. He hadn't spent time with both of them in a long time, and he was suddenly looking forward to the rest of his day.

 

Haru doesn't hesitate as he dips a slim brush into pitch black ink. He picks a dark corner and paints the smooth lines that form his name in well practiced strokes. He stopped bothering with his last name years ago, and instead has developed a recognizable signature with the single character for his given name. He scowls at it. He still doesn't like people calling him by that name, but there's really no helping it. He doesn't really care for people calling him by his last name either.

Feeling uneasy, he sits back and looks over his canvas. He doesn't really care for this one. Its a painting of a beach he's never been to. When he started paintings like this, all the photos of foreign beaches, lakes and rivers would inspire him, and he even traveled out to ones that weren't too far. Sometimes he would spend all day on location, painting and swimming peacefully. When he looked at the scene in front of him, he didn't feel much at all.

When was the last time he had gone for a swim anyway? He can't remember. He wasn't a prodigy anymore, and one day the water had been just that; water. No matter what he did, the water remained inert and lifeless. Haru had never felt so out of place than he had in water that didn't respond to him. He had quit, and moved back to Iwatobi.

He's not sure what he would have ended up doing if he hadn't run into one of the kids who had always been trying to get him to join the art club back in high school. The kid had grown up, and was a budding art dealer himself. He encouraged, and begged a little, Haru to pick up drawing again. Which lead to painting. Which led to commissions and work, and independence which was invaluable to Haru.

Haru wonders if Makoto ever swam anymore. He figures probably not, and thinks of what a shame that is. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and idly flips through it. He lands on the last picture of Mariko Makoto had sent him, of her snuggling up with the cat toy. He feels the corners of his mouth tug up ever so slightly. He wonders what she's doing with Makoto today. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

His situation with Makoto wasn't getting any easier. He had dreamt about him again after he fell back asleep that morning, and it's left a gnawing unsatisfied feeling in his gut all morning. The hazy figure from his dreams is easy to define in his mind. It takes nothing to recall how thick corded muscle sprawls down Makoto's arms now, stained with ink on one forearm. He closes his eyes and lets his mind replay his dream, trying to imagine Makoto's wet mouth trailing over his taut skin.

Haru gasps and flinches when not there teeth deliberately brush over a nipple, and he sucks in a breath as dream-Makoto runs his tongue over it seconds later. His hand tentatively goes to his lap, and he rubs himself through his pants. It's not nearly enough.

Imaginary Makoto moves up to his throat, deep voice ghosting over the shell of Haru's ear and he shivers. He doesn't even hear the words said, the tone is the important part, and that tone means _intent_. He imagines it's Makoto's hand that thumbs his button open and pulls his zipper down now, and Makoto's hand that wraps itself around Haru, half hard and needy.

He lets one of his hands slip under his shirt, tracing the lines Makoto's mouth left and brushing over a nipple. He's pleasantly surprised when his dick twitches in response, and he squeezes it a little harder. He keeps pumping himself, imagining a fire in Makoto's green eyes to match the heat he feels growing around the base of his spine.

He thinks Makoto would be gentle and soft, and he makes his hand go feather light over his chest. It's borderline ticklish, but in combination with the steady strokes from his hand he finds himself moaning into it. His breath becomes unsteady. He leans back and widens his legs to give himself a better angle when the thought hits him, what if Makoto wasn't gentle?

Breath catching, he adds pressure to his fingers and experimentally pinches and scratches. He hisses and grinds himself harder. That was better, and Haru might laugh if he wasn't so preoccupied. He squeezes his base and runs a finger over the slit, thinking how Makoto's hands were probably big enough to do both at once. He keeps stroking himself, thinking only of how different it would be with Makoto.

It doesn't take long to get close, but all his usual moves to getting off fail him. He's panting, and frankly, losing strength in his arm. Frustrated, he licks a stripe down his free palm and adds it to the other. Using both hands helps, but he's still just on the edge. He runs back through his dream, and focuses on Makoto's face. He feels the fire flaring up again under the green gaze, and with a snap his mind understands what he's missing and supplies it. He comes with a startled yelp, the possessive glint in Makoto's eyes burning into his skull.

Oh, that couldn't be good. Haru looks down at the mess in his lap in disgust. This had never been just about lust had it? Shit. What if it _had_ always been Makoto? Still seated, Haru feels like he needs to somehow sit down again. Instead he gets up, cleans himself off and changes his pants. His phone is still open on the picture of Mariko when he retrieves it and he feels filthy.

He hedges on messaging Makoto. He doesn't really have anything to say, but he still wants to send something. Its an unusual feeling for Haru, who has been known to go months without speaking to anyone. Yet, he doesn't dislike it. He finally decides that he'd just be bothering Makoto with nothing to really say, and sets his phone back down. It was about time for him to make something for lunch anyway.

 

Makoto opts for the train when he heads into Iwatobi, reveling in the nostalgia of walking down the streets of his hometown. Even though he hasn't really lived here for more than a few months at a time since high school, there was something calming about the little town that had firmly cemented itself as home in Makoto's heart.

Not much has changed, even all these years later. A few of the storefronts are updated and different, but the flow of the town remains the same. Easy going and familiar, Makoto breathes in the heady scent of the ocean air. Rin must have been feeling a little nostalgic too Makoto thinks, since he picked a little ramen bar they used to frequent as kids.

His feet know the way, and he spends the walk pointing out familiar sights to Mariko. There used to be a stray cat that lived right around that corner, and was fed by nearly everyone who passed it. That was where Nagisa bought all that awful strawberry protein shake mix. Lesson learned, don't ever let him make you anything if that's in the vicinity. Over there was a fountain that Makoto had had to frequently stop Haru from jumping in back in the day.

Makoto stops in front of the fountain, and watches as Mariko watches the streams in awe. It must seem so huge to her. It must have seemed bigger to him and Haru when they were younger too, or he probably wouldn't have had to pull Haru out of it so often. He hopes Haru's grown out of that peculiar habit and moves on.

He's nearly to the restaurant, and the thought still nags at him. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Haru hadn't mentioned swimming the whole time. Not once. Feeling uneasy, he pulls the door open to the familiar ting of a bell.

“Macchan!” Rin is up and running towards them immediately, and Makoto falls into an easy smile as he takes her and spins her up in the air. Sousuke follows and grabs Makoto's shoulder.

“Been a while,” he says giving Makoto a squeeze before turning his attention back to Mariko. Rin holds her up to him and she claps both hands on his face. Sousuke obligingly blows her a raspberry.

“Sorry, did I keep you guys waiting?” he asks, following them back to their booth. Rin is immersed in babbling to Mariko but Sousuke shrugs as he slides in next to him.

“Nah, we haven't even ordered yet,” he says. Makoto flashes him a smile.

“How have you been, Sousuke? I haven't seen you for a while,” he says. Sousuke grins at turns his focus on Makoto.

“Doing better now, thanks to to you.” Rin snorts. Makoto doesn't falter and just smiles blandly back at him. Sousuke doesn't mind Makoto not raising to the bait.

“I've been good. I'm going for a swim with Rin later, actually,” Makoto watches for the change in his eyes that would give it away if he was hiding something, and doesn't see it.

“Don't push it,” he says gently. It was still a touchy subject, but Sousuke was better about talking about his shoulders these days.

“Don't worry, mom,” he says smile breaking the sarcastic tone.

“I was talking to Rin,” Makoto says, and they both look at him. Rin scowls.

“Hey, first off, don't look at me like that. I feel like I'm getting cornered by linebackers over here,” Rin says and Makoto laughs. He leans back in his seat a little, trying to hunch down.

“And, are you trying to say _I'm_ pushy, Makoto?” Rin gives him a glare but Makoto doesn't let up.

“ _Rin,_ ” he says, with a well practiced tone.

“I can trust Sousuke, you're the one who eggs people on until they literally _wear out joints_.” Rin doesn't last long against Makoto's precision guilt. His face collapses for a second before settling on mild exasperation.

“Fine, no races. Since when do you trust Sousuke more than me anyway? That's cold dude,” he says, and Makoto recognizes the pout. He relaxes and smiles.

“Since always, probably,” he says lightly. Sousuke laughs next to him, and tries to write it off as a cough when Rin shoots him a glare.

“Ice cold, man,” he says shaking his head in feigned disgust.

“At least Macchan still loves me the most, isn't that right Macchan?” He asks her sweetly. She looks up at him from his lap and coos. Rin looks like he may melt. The waitress appears and takes their order. When she bends down to coo at Mariko, Rin looks like he wants to run. She brings a booster seat for her, and Rin leaves it empty on the seat next to him.

They eat and catch up. Makoto's glad to catch them together, and for a little while it feels like he's back in college. Rin keeps watching the waitress between feeding himself and Mariko. The third time she comes back without a real excuse, Sousuke kicks him under the table when Rin watches her walk away.

“Just ask her,” he says when Rin shoots him a look. Rin looks back where the waitress had disappeared and frowns.

“She does keep coming back to see you,” Makoto adds. Rin hugs Mariko closer to his chest.

“Nah, it's all about Macchan. Even I can't compete with an actual angel,” he says grin flashing up at them. Sousuke leans in to Makoto and lowers his voice to almost a whisper.

“I think he's gonna kidnap you kid, Makoto,” he says and Makoto laughs. He leans in and raises a hand to speak behind.

“He'll give up after she keeps him up all night,” he says.

“Hey assholes, I _can_ hear you.”

“Rin, if my daughter's first word is 'asshole', I'm calling Lori.” Rin gapes.

“You wouldn't,” he says, mouth still hanging open.

“I'll help translate,” Sousuke offers.

“Thanks Sousuke,” Makoto smiles at him. Rin looks betrayed.

“Why do I even hang out with you two,” he groans, burying his face in Mariko's hair. Grinning, Sousuke holds out a fist, and Makoto bumps it with a little laugh.

“Probably our handsome, rugged appeal,” Sousuke says, humming as if in deep thought.

“I mean I've got tall, dark and handsome on lock, so.” Rin snorts.

“It's probably Mariko for me? And I'm a good pretty good wing man, I think,” Makoto says, rubbing his chin to mimic his own deep thoughts. Sousuke and Rin nod sagely at that and Makoto laughs. He looks from Rin to Sousuke and back.

“Guys?” Rin and Sousuke share a look and laugh. Makoto shakes his head.

“Jeez what kind of friends are you anyway. Using me like that,” Makoto tsks and fakes a wounded look.

“The kind who don't get all mushy when they talk about friends,” Sousuke says levelly.

“Rin gets mushier than I do,” he says, frowning. Rin kicks him.

“I do not!” Makoto raises his hands up in surrender. Rin gives him another glare for good measure before Mariko squirms and he turns back to her. The restored peace doesn't last.

“So how's it going with Haru?” Rin asks, not looking up from Mariko. Makoto's eyes widen and he can feel Sousuke go stiff in the seat next to him.

“What's Nanase got to do with anything?” he asks, voice low and dark. Makoto looks at him and tries his best disarming smile. Sousuke's frown deepens. Rin answers for him.

“He wanted to meet Macchan,” he says lightly. Somehow Sousuke's frown deepens.

“Aw man, we we're having a good time here too,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. Makoto finds his voice.

“It's been great, actually,” he says. He doesn't have to fake the happiness in his voice. He looks into his water glass and smiles thinking of all the time he's spent with Haru recently. He doesn't see the look Sousuke exchanges with Rin.

“He's been talking to you then?” Sousuke asks quietly. Makoto smiles.

“Yeah. He's come over and watched Mariko for me too,” Makoto says. Sousuke's eyes flash to Mariko before going back to Makoto, disbelieving. Rin starts laughing.

“He even called me when he couldn't get her to stop crying.” Makoto looks at him. Haru never told him that.

“Amateur,” Sousuke snorts. Makoto watches Sousuke relax, and resume his meal. They fall back into easy conversation after that, and Mariko falls asleep in Rin's arms. Makoto snaps a picture on his phone and sends it to Kou. When Rin looks at him with big eyes, he laughs and sends it to him too.

When they're ready to leave, Sousuke gives Makoto a nod towards the door while Rin struggles with waking Mariko. Makoto, catches the hint, and offers to go keep Sousuke company when he announces he wants to get a smoke in before Rin wastes him in the pool.

They walk outside with Makoto nagging him about smoking, and Sousuke cuts him off as soon as they're a safe distance from the doors.

“Are you okay?” he asks bluntly.

“Don't even try to act like it's no big deal, Makoto,” he says when Makoto opens his mouth with an automatic 'I'm fine'. Sousuke leans against the wall and crosses his arms. They were the about the same height now, and Makoto was definitely in a different weight class, but it means nothing when he gives Makoto _that_ look. He was the only one Makoto knew that could daunt him into honesty.

“...it is a big deal,” he says finally. Sousuke just nods, waiting for Makoto to go on. Makoto's shoulders slump.

“I still can't believe it sometimes,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck and looks up at the sky.

“He just showed up on my door, out of the blue,” Makoto smiles at the memory. Haru had looked just like he had the last time he had seen him, all fluid lines and muted grace. His eyes had gone wide when he saw Makoto shocked at being caught, but he had seen the way they glinted when Makoto invited him in. He had thought he had been dreaming.

“You should have seen his face when I showed him Mariko,” he says. Sousuke rolls his eyes. Makoto can almost hear what Sousuke is holding in.

“And?” he says instead. Makoto looks away. Of course Sousuke would cut straight to the heart of it. Literally. Makoto leans up against the wall next to him.

“And, I know I should be careful, but Sousuke, it's _Haru_. And he's trying so hard, what am I supposed to do?” he says, knowing Sousuke has it in him to understand. Sousuke sighs.

“You should be careful _because_ it's him,” he says quietly. Makoto knows. He _knows_. But still.

“Makoto, you can't fall apart like that again. Not with Mariko.”

“Damn it, you think I don't know that Sousuke?” he says, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“You need to give him a chance,” he says, not backing down from Sousuke's icy glare.

“Why should I?” he says, voice hard.

“He's changed,” Makoto says firmly.

“And even if he hasn't, he's my friend Sousuke.” Sousuke scowls, and breaks eye contact first.

“He's important to me. Rin too,” Makoto pushes. He draws himself to his full height in front of Sousuke and squares his shoulders. He knows Sousuke would never be intimidated by him, but he wants the message that he's not dropping it to be loud and clear. Sousuke looks at him for a long minute before shrugging.

“Alright, stand down before you strain something.” Makoto immediately relaxes and smiles.

“Oh knock it off,” Sousuke smiles back at him.

“I'm not saying I'll be friends with the guy, but I'll trust you to be careful with him.”

“Thank you Sousuke,” Makoto smiles goes back to leaning on the wall next to him, bumping shoulders. They share the silence for another minute before Rin pops his head around the corner. They head out of the alley together, and Sousuke takes a turn carrying Mariko for a while before they part ways.

Makoto ends up back in front of the fountain, staring into it. He pulls out his phone and brings up Haru's number. He picks up after three rings.

“Hello?” he says. Makoto smiles.

“Hey Haru,” he says.

“I know you're probably sick of me by now, but I'm actually in Iwatobi right now...” he trails off, giving Haru a chance to turn him down if he wants.

“Oh,” he gets back. He waits.

“Uh, did you want to come over or?” Haru sounds a little at a loss. Makoto smiles into his receiver.

“We don't have to stay there if you want. We could go for a walk or something,” he says, keeping it light.

“Sure, okay,” Haru says back, almost too quickly.

“Okay, I'm pretty close, I'll be right over,” Makoto says. He can hear Haru rustling around with something.

“Okay, bye,” he gets in a rush. Makoto blinks at his phone as it goes dark and laughs. He heads towards Haru's apartment with a spring in his step.

He knocks on the door he's pretty sure was Haru's and hears something fall inside. Haru's dark head appears in the doorway moments later. He looks from the dozing Mariko to Makoto and steps aside to let them in.

Makoto feels a little giddy. This was the first time he's been inside Haru's apartment after all, and he's been curious even since he found out Haru didn't live in his grandmother's house anymore.

When he walks in, he's almost disappointed. It must be a one bedroom, since Makoto doesn't see a bed anywhere, but he can see the rest of the whole place from the entry. There's a little sofa, love seat really, against the wall. There's a joke of a kitchen off to one side and Makoto can't imagine Haru being happy cooking in it. Most of the room is dominated by a large desk, and several canvases propped up against it. There's a faint smell of pine.

Overall, it's nearly as barren as his house had been, and gives off an eerily similar vibe. Makoto doesn't see anything that says Haru, and he feels his heart cracking for him. Haru watches him take it in for a second before saying anything. He tells Makoto that he's going to get his bag and opens a door Makoto assumes is to his bedroom. He leaves the door open and when he flips the light on Makoto catches a glimpse of a bed, with a splash of orange crumpled on the corner. _Was that my shirt..?_

The light flicks back off and Makoto spins around, pretending to be interested in the kitchen, hiding his face. It's only years of being around rowdy friends that keep him from jumping when Haru tugs on his sleeve.

“Let's go?” he say, looking down when Makoto turns to him. Makoto puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says gently letting Haru lead him out.

They head down the to the pier in relative silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Haru seems to have something on his mind, the way he keeps shooting Makoto looks and chewing his bottom lip. Makoto is nothing if not patient, so when they find a bench he leaves Haru to grab them drinks from a vending machine nearby.

He tosses Haru his caned pineapple juice, and takes a seat next to him. He pops the top on his takes a drink, giving Haru his time. Haru sits next to him, staring at the unopened juice in his hands. He opens his mouth and closes it. Makoto takes another sip and sets his can down. He gently lifts the can out of Haru's hands and cracks the top. Haru watches him quietly. Makoto passes it back.

“Take your time, Haru,” he says. Haru's eyes go wide and he quickly takes a sip. Makoto smiles at him in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. Haru sighs and drags an annoyed hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“I don't know how to say it,” he admits a minute later. Makoto rubs a hand on his back and Haru sighs into it. Makoto takes another sip to calm his heart.

“My parents divorced,” Haru blurts. He he looks at his feet.

“What?” Makoto is stunned. He had had no idea. Haru looks like he's going to curl into himself.

“You wondered why I'm living in that little apartment right?” Haru says, ignoring the real question.

“They divorced. It was mutual I guess,” he says, hands tight on his juice.

“Mom sold the house, I moved,” he says carefully. Makoto can tell he's glossing over a lot, but he lets him.

“Haru,” he says, feeling a bit sick. Haru looks up to him questioningly.

“When?” he asks, voice faint. Haru looks off to the side.

“A long time ago,” he hedges. Something twists in Makoto's stomach.

“Haru, when?” he asks, almost afraid of the answer. Haru looks away. When he answers, it's so quiet Makoto almost doesn't hear him.

“Two years after high school.” Makoto feels like he's been hit by a truck. Two years after high school is right after they stopped talking. Two years after high school and Makoto had been killing himself in his studies, determined that they wouldn't be for nothing after costing him his best friend. Two years after high school he had started smoking, and had his first hook up. He had cried all the time, but he had never thought Haru might be too.

“Haru,” his voice does crack this time. Haru doesn't look at him, and Makoto can see his shoulders shudder.

“Haru,” he tries again. He wraps his free arm around Haru's shoulders and tugs him in against his side, holding tight even when Haru freezes up and goes rigid.

“I am so sorry Haru,” he's choking up. He doesn't care. He was such an idiot. He had never thought Haru might have needed him too. _Idiot_. He should have tried to keep in contact harder. Back then he figured he was just a bother to him.

“I'm sorry Haru. I'm such an idiot. I should have been there, I” Makoto hiccups. He squeezes Haru tighter. He can feel Haru look up at him and he can't face him.

“You were lonely weren't you? I never should have left you alone,” he says blinking away hot tears. He's trying to catch his breath when a cold hand brushes his cheek.

“Makoto, don't cry,” Haru says, sounding strained. Makoto finally looks at him. He looks like he might tear up too and Makoto doesn't know how much more he can take. Haru leans in, and puts his head on Makoto's shoulder. Makoto stops breathing.

“It's fine. I'm not that lonely anymore,” he says and closes his eyes. Makoto feels like he might burst.

“Promise me you'll come find me whenever you get lonely,” he says. Haru hums into his shoulder.

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise,” Haru mumbles. Makoto feels a little better.

 

Haru is the first one to break the contact, and he hates himself for doing it. But the sun was starting to set, and he's sure Makoto's uncomfortable, holding on to him and Mariko. He leans away, and Makoto quickly raises his arm to let him go. Haru looks away and sips his juice when Makoto uses his hand to wipe at his face.

The sight of Makoto crying for him was still fresh in Haru's mind. He couldn't help but reach up to him when those tears had formed. He felt bad making Makoto cry, but on the other hand he felt relieved. He hadn't told anyone about his parents. He felt better just saying it out loud.

He gets to his feet first and offers Makoto his hand when they leave. Makoto smiles up at him and gently takes it, hardly putting any weight on Haru at all. They walk back towards his apartment along the same route they used to take everyday to school, and both of them watch the sun dance over the ocean before turning into town.

Back in his apartment, Makoto sits on Haru's sofa while he makes something for them to eat. He just heats up leftovers, but by the time he turns around, Makoto is reclined in the arm of the couch, Mariko sprawled out on top of him, fast asleep. Haru smiles at them, and sits down in his desk chair. It looks like Makoto had worn himself out, and Haru doesn't blame him. His little confession had left him feeling winded too.

He pulls his phone out and snaps a shot. He'll send it to Makoto later. He looks at the shot for a second before closing his phone. He lets them sleep while he picks at his food. Quietly, he digs around on his desk for a pencil, and grabs his sketchbook. Recently, he had been doing more figure drawings, and he's deluding himself when he wonders why. The muscled back diving off one of his pages left little doubt. He flips to a blank page.

Before he knows it, a couple of hours have passed. Makoto had only moved once to lay down a little more, but he still didn't fit. Haru quietly pads up to him. Making sure he was still asleep, he cautiously reaches a hand out to his hair, ready to jump back at any sign of movement. Makoto doesn't stir, so he brushes his short hair with his fingers. Makoto rolls his head to the side, facing Haru, but doesn't wake.

Haru kneels next to him, and feeling brave, runs his hand through Makoto's hair more confidently than before. He's focused on his face, and the even rising and falling of his chest under Mariko's chubby cheeks. Haru leans in, until he's so close he could probably count Makoto's eyelashes. He holds his breath and leans in closer.

Mariko squirms and Haru flies backwards so quickly he loses his balance and falls. The sound wakes Makoto, who rubs a hand on his eyes groggily. Haru quickly moves back to his chair, heart pounding in his chest.

“Haru? Did I fall asleep?” Makoto asks yawning. He doesn't seem to be aware of what Haru had been doing. Although it doesn't do anything to slow Haru's heartbeat, he's still relieved.

“Yeah, it's okay,” Haru says.

“Jeez Haru, you could have woken me up,” he says, sounding concerned.

“It's your day off too,” he says. Makoto smiles. Haru almost returns it.

“Sorry Haru, I should probably head back if I'm just falling asleep on you,” Makoto says rubbing the back of his neck. Haru frowns. Makoto gently sets Mariko on the sofa and stands, stretching out kinks the couch had surely left.

It's only a few minutes later when Makoto's heading out the door, and Haru still hasn't thought of a good excuse to get him to stay. He washes the few dishes in his sink, and slinks to his room. He looks at Makoto's shirt before giving up and changing into it. Back in the main room, Haru curls up in the spot Makoto had left. It wasn't warm anymore but Haru thinks he can still smell Makoto. His phone rings not long after.

 _'Sorry I fell asleep on you'_ it says. Haru can see Makoto frowning as he sends it. _'I said it's fine'_ he sends back. _'You need more sleep anyway'_ he adds. _'Thanks for the worrying about me Haru'_ he gets. Haru frowns. _'who's worrying'_ he sends. _':)'_ is all he gets back. Haru sets the phone down, guessing that was the end of it.

 _'And... thanks for telling me'_ his phone rings a minute later. Haru doesn't know what to say to that. _'yeah'_ he sends, hating how awkward it sounds to him. _'you can say no, but do you want to watch Mariko again next week?'_ Haru smiles. _'sure'_ he's almost thrilled. _'Great! I'll see you in a few days!'_ Haru lets his phone slide down on the cushion and smiles to himself. He settles further down in his little nook and breathes deep. Suddenly, the next few days didn't seem so unmanageable.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I still don't know how to do notes, but my friend drew them!! she drew Makoto's tattoos and him with his short hair and Haru and the ~motorcycle~ that hasn't appeared yet but anyway _it's so good!!_ **[go look go look!](http://supermisu.tumblr.com/post/102205161935/first-couple-doodles-from-single-dad-makoto-au)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Haru,” he starts, feeling grim.  
> “How long have you had a fever?”

 

By noon, Haru can't breathe out of his nose anymore. He'd managed to hide it from Makoto when he rushed out the door that morning, but he doesn't think he'll be so lucky when he comes back. Haru sighs and uselessly blows his nose again. He can't believe his body had the audacity to try and get sick on him. Makoto had the next few days off, but there was no way he'd want to spend any of them with Haru if his nose was running all over the place.

He sneezes and Mariko chirps in surprise. He should probably keep his distance from her. He frowns at the idea. At some point, he had gotten more comfortable with her in his arms than not. She was warm and squishy, but Haru knew there was another reason. He shakes his head and picks her up, sitting her on the couch next to him.

She immediately crawls her way back on top of him and hangs onto his nose to babble in his face. He smiles despite himself, before sneezing again. He hangs his head. He pulls her up and hugs her against his chest. One more can't hurt.

“Sorry, Macchan,” he whispers to her. She blows bubbles. He brings her to the table and sets her up with some paper and his newest secret weapon; _finger paints_. She has absolutely no understanding of coloring books, but one thing she does like is color. Haru's been bringing different things for her to try and he's hit the jackpot with non-toxic finger paints.

She forgets all about having to be separated and gleefully slams a hand into a jar of primary blue. Haru sits across from her for a while, watching her attack her paper with zealous enthusiasm with a small smile on his face. He wraps his hands around his cup of tea and rests his head on his arms. He'll have to bring her more colors next time.

He wakes up with a start when he can't breathe. He gasps awake, and it startles Mariko to wake too. She sits up blearily and Haru reaches out to pet her head before she can start crying. He'd fallen asleep on the kitchen table and it looks like Mariko did too. His congestion is terrible, and he can feel a faint headache creeping in.

Groaning, he gets up and dumps his cold tea down the drain, putting on another pot. He hadn't been asleep for long but he still finds himself yawning. He pulls the kettle off right before it starts to boil and pours some cereal into a mug with milk for Mariko. He sits back down and feeds her lumpy spoonfuls, gently prying her hands away when she tries to grab the spoon. He sips his tea and tries to get himself together. At this rate Makoto would probably shove him out as soon as he got home, and not let him back until he was better. Haru didn't really want that.

He retrieves his laptop from the living room and brings it back into the kitchen. He taps through pages lazily, not really looking for anything specific. Haru blows his nose when he needs to, and hands Mariko a fresh piece of paper when her current page gets too covered. Within moments its covered in a more or less green smear. When she gets quiet he looks up at her and nearly chokes on a laugh.

Finished with her paper, Mariko had moved on to every visible inch of skin and was more colorful than Nagisa's vocabulary. She hears him laugh and joins him, holding out her muddy hands in an offering.

“No thanks,” he says. She doesn't take it personally and instead wipes it in her hair. Haru laughs. The whole time he's been watching her he's never had to actually give her a bath. Makoto always did it before he left. Haru sniffs and shrugs. If he could change diapers, he's sure he could handle it.

Haru climbs the stairs to Makoto's room and heads to the bathroom looking for supplies. He's still never actually gone inside and he regrets it instantly when he flips the light on. The bathroom itself isn't anything special, but Haru feels his heart skip at the sight of the _tub_. So Makoto has one after all. Haru sits on the edge and peers longingly into it. He would definitely fit. He could even dunk his head under and everything. He reaches a hand out to the faucet.

A crash downstairs snaps him out of it. _Right_ , he thinks. He stands up and heads out the door. _Mariko first_. Then maybe...

 

By the time Makoto walks up his driveway, he's exhausted and damp. He's lucky its only just starting to rain, but it was still sending little shivers up his arms. Today had been long and taxing, and he was all sorts of sore. But, he thinks cheering up, he had the next few days off and he was finally home.

He opens the door quietly, and is a little surprised when he doesn't smell anything from the kitchen. He peeks his head and finds Mariko making towers out of crayons and Haru standing in front of the closed refrigerator. Makoto watches for a second while neither of them notice him. Haru sways and Makoto is next to him in an instant, hand around his waist to steady him. Haru starts and looks up at him and Makoto frowns.

“Haru?” he says. Haru opens his mouth to say something and turns his head as it turns into a cough. Makoto steers him to a chair and pushes him into it. Before he can protest Makoto brushes Haru's damp bangs away and presses his palm against Haru's forehead. Haru goes still.

“Haru,” he starts, feeling grim.

“How long have you had a fever?” Haru looks away. Makoto sighs.

“Come on Haru. You need to take care of yourself a little,” he says gently. Haru looks up at him with a pained expression and Makoto feels himself weakening.

“I'm fine,” he mumbles.

“Sit,” he tells Haru in what he hopes is a stern voice. He leans down to Mariko when she demands his attention and kisses the top of her head before heading upstairs. He comes down with a thick blanket and some cold medicine and heads back to Haru. He brings him to the sofa and makes him lie down, throwing the blanket over him. Haru buries himself into it despite the halfhearted glares he sends Makoto when he hands him the foil packet of medicine.

“You should have told me,” he says gently, sitting on the coffee table next to him. The top of Haru's head scowls.

“I'm not going to get mad if you're sick and can't come over,” he says. Haru stares blankly at him.

“Not sick,” he hears muffled under the blanket. Makoto smiles and gives him a perfect copy of the face his mother would give him when she could read right through _his_ bullshit. Haru looks away and Makoto knows it worked.

“There's always next time, Haru. Don't push yourself, okay?” he tries again. Haru looks back to him and his eyes seem a little glassy. Makoto pinches his lips together as Haru nods to him. He has a feeling Haru is probably sicker than he's letting on.

“Just lie down for a while and relax, okay?” he says fighting the urge to brush his hair back and tuck the blanket more firmly around him. Haru nods again and Makoto stands up. He gives him one last look before heading to the kitchen and rolling up his sleeves.

He hums to Mariko as he gets to work whipping up something for dinner. She switches between ignoring him in favor of the more exciting crayon tower, and all but yanking him down to admire her various masterpieces. Pages of bright smudges litter the table and Makoto smiles to himself.

By the time he brings a plate and a steaming cup of tea in for Haru, he's fallen asleep. Makoto watches the blankets rise and fall and the flush on Haru's face for a minute before resting a hand on Haru's shoulder and gently shaking him awake. Haru wakes almost instantly and stares wide eyed at Makoto. Makoto tilts his head and gives him a second to recover.

“Sorry to startle you,” he smiles. “But you should eat something.” Haru blinks.

“Thanks,” he says, sitting up. The blankets slip down to his waist and Makoto tugs it up around his shoulders. Haru looks away and picks his plate up. Satisfied that Haru wasn't going to just fall back asleep, he heads back for his own plate and Mariko.

“It's good,” Haru says when he returns, still not looking at him. Makoto smiles and sits down next to him. Mariko wiggles until she's sitting between them and Haru stiffens. Makoto takes a bite and watches him. He looks to Mariko and flashes Makoto a slightly panicked look and it falls into place.

“Relax Haru. If she hasn't gotten it yet, another few minutes can't hurt.” Makoto tries to sound unconcerned. Mariko's been a healthy child so far, and it's not like she's behind on her vaccine schedule. It's worth it when Haru's eyes soften. When he finishes his plate he lifts an arm up, making an entrance under his blanket. Mariko makes a little squeal of delight and doesn't hesitate to crawl inside. Makoto feels his heart swell.

“You should stay,” he blurts. Haru's eyes whip up to him. Makoto swallows and tries again.

“I mean, I have a futon somewhere, and it's raining out, and I'm off tomorrow and there's no way I'm sending you out there when you're _sick_ ,” too fast. Makoto knows it and kicks himself internally.

“I'm not sick,” Haru pouts, his face still flush with fever and Mariko squiggling in his lap and Makoto laughs. Makoto can tell when Haru tries for a withering look and Makoto raises his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. But you're still staying.” Makoto can't stand the thought of sending him to an empty apartment. It was better if he was a little uncomfortable here, where Makoto could keep an eye on him, than back home alone. Haru opens his mouth and thinks better of it.

“I don't need a futon,” he says. Makoto smiles.

“If you prefer the sofa, I guess that's okay,” did Haru's face get darker at that?

“Fine,” he says. Makoto breathes easier. Mariko pops her head out of the blanket and Makoto smiles at them.

“Hey Mariko, ready for bed?” Makoto holds out a hand to her and she crawls out of the blanket cave and wobbles her way back over to him. He picks her up in his arms and stands up.

“Say goodnight to Haru, Mariko,” he says leaning down towards Haru. Mariko makes a sound and reaches out to Haru. To Makoto's amazement, Haru leans his head forward so she can tangle her little fingers in his hair.

“Goodnight Mariko,” he says quietly. Makoto stands there for a second, mouth hanging open. He closes it with a snap when Haru leans back into the couch and looks up at him questioningly. He smiles down at him.

“I'll grab you something to sleep in,” he says. Haru nods and looks away. Makoto hums a the bit he can remember of some lullaby all the way up the stairs. He changes Mariko and puts her in pajamas almost mechanically. She's sleepy as soon as he sets her down in her crib, and by the time Makoto has changed into his own sleeping clothes and brushed his teeth, she's out.

He grabs an extra pillow off his bed, shorts and a t-shirt for Haru to sleep in and, after a thought, digs out another blanket from one of the boxes in his closet. He goes back in his bathroom and digs around in his drawers until he finds a spare toothbrush and snags his paste from the counter. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. He bundles it up and heads back downstairs. He was a little excited, honestly. He hadn't has a sleepover with Haru in years. It wasn't under the best circumstances, but Makoto would take it.

 

When Makoto comes back, and flops his pile of sleepover supplies on the sofa next to him, Haru can't help but stare. Seeing Makoto in pajamas was bad for his heart. He was wearing soft looking gray pants that hung lower on his hips than Haru thought was strictly necessary, and a worn out black tank top that left little to the imagination. Haru's grateful for his fever. Makoto would probably assume his face was so red because of that, and not the explicit thoughts Haru was having a harder and harder time managing.

Makoto catches him staring and his face pinches with concern. Haru looks away and goes through the pile he'd brought down. _A toothbrush?_ Haru picks it up and looks at Makoto.

“Never hurts to have a spare?” Haru just looks at him. Makoto laughs.

“You'll thank me when you don't have nuclear waste breath in the morning,” he says.

“That's not a thing,” he says. Makoto shrugs.

“It kinda is. Go change already,” Makoto smiles and picks up the dishes, heading to the kitchen. Haru glances back at the pile. He had washed the shirt he had borrowed from Makoto and snuck it back in his closet that morning. He looks down at the new one Makoto had practically thrown in his lap. He grins as he takes it and the pants and heads to the bathroom. He's keeping the shirt.

Makoto's clothes, as predicted, don't fit him. He looks at himself in the mirror and cringes. The pants were more like capris on him, and he frowns when he realizes they were probably meant to be shorts. He sighs and ends up coughing. Annoyed, he unwraps the toothbrush and brushes his teeth. There's already a glass in the bathroom, and after a moment to consider it, Haru leaves his toothbrush in it. Maybe he can use it next time.

Makoto's still washing dishes in the kitchen when Haru comes out, so he heads over. Makoto looks at him with a face that Haru knows from experience is a precursor to a protest. Haru grabs a towel and stands his ground next to him.

“I'm fine,” he says. He hates it when a second later he has fight another cough. He gives Makoto a hard look when he opens his mouth.

“I'm _fine_. I'll dry,” he says. Makoto's shoulders slump in defeat and he hands Haru a clean plate.

“I'm almost done anyway,” he says, sounding very much like a pout. Haru smiles at his plate. Standing close, they make short work of the remaining dishes. When Haru opens a cabinet to put them away, Makoto nudges him with his shoulder.

“Go sit down Haru, I'll finish up,” Haru frowns but his body betrays him and he sneezes. Makoto smiles and it's so close to an _'I told you'_ that Haru gives in and goes back to the living room. Makoto comes in seconds later and sets a water bottle on the table in front of Haru, sitting with his own in the armchair.

“How are you feeling?” Haru frowns.

“I'm _fine._ ” He can't quite keep the exasperation out of his voice.

_“Haru.”_

“...I'll probably be fine by tomorrow,” he relents. Makoto smiles and Haru doesn't feel so bad about giving in. He pulls a blanket over him and feels another blush when Makoto gets up to toss the other one on top of him.

“Is your fever getting worse?” Makoto asks, face suddenly close.

“It'll be fine,” he says, breaking eye contact first. He hears Makoto sigh and go back to his chair.

“Haru, you know you can talk to me about these things, right? Being sick,” Makoto hesitates. His voice is quiet and soft when he continues.

“Or your parents. Or anything, really. You don't have to if you don't want to, but you don't have to hide it either.” Makoto looks up to him and his eyes are gentle and reassuring. Haru would blame the fever later, but for the first time he actually feels like he wants to have this talk.

“They.” Haru stops and takes a drink of his water. Makoto raises his eyebrows, clearly not really expecting Haru to take him up on it.

“When they told me they were getting a divorce...” Makoto leans forward to listen. Haru swallows.

“I didn't really know how to feel about it, I guess. They told me like they were commenting on the weather. They didn't even tell me in person,” Haru almost wants to laugh at it. It had made him so tired.

“I'm sorry Haru. That must have been hard on you.” Makoto's voice brings him back, and when he looks up, his green eyes look wet. Haru shakes his head, he really didn't want Makoto to start crying about it again.

“It wasn't... great.” he concedes. He thinks about the flashes of anger he had felt when they had packed up his house. His father passing him an envelope of money, like that solved everything. His mother barely getting off the phone long enough to kiss him goodbye as she walked out, her heels clicking primly on the steps.

“But it didn't really change much.” Makoto looks like he doesn't believe him.

“I never really saw them for more than a few days at a time anyway,” he says. When he thinks about it, he comes to a realization.

“I don't think I've seen my father since then actually...” he stares into his hands. Had it really been that long? The thought leaves him unsettled. Before it can fester, Makoto's big hands wrap around his. The look on Makoto's face catches Haru's breath. He looks achingly sincere and heartbroken.

“I'm so sorry, Haru. I can't even imagine...” Makoto's voice catches and Haru finds himself blinking back tears. He hadn't really felt anything about it in so long that he thought he'd gotten over it years ago. He stares at their hands. Something about Makoto brought it out of him. Instead of hating it, he finds himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“It's okay,” he says, voice barely a whisper. He feels a little wrung out. He takes a deep breath, or as deep as he can manage before something in his throat catches and he starts coughing again. Makoto releases his hands so he can cover his mouth and Haru misses it instantly. Makoto holds his water bottle out for him and Haru takes it and takes a long drink from it to get himself back under control.

“You too,” he says, voice gravelly. Makoto looks confused so Haru spells it out for him.

“You can talk about you too,” he says. Makoto winces and rubs the back of his neck.

“I'm not all that interesting,” he says. Haru stares and Makoto looks up at the ceiling like it will give him answers.

“Oh, the twins graduate high school this year! Can you believe that?” Makoto looks back at him and Haru does gape a little at that. The last time he had really seen them they had been crawling all over him.

“They actually might be taller than you now,” Makoto says with a smile.

“That better be a joke,” Haru says. Makoto laughs.

“No, sorry.” Haru hangs his head. He suddenly feels ancient.

“You should come to their graduation in the spring, I'm sure they'd love to see you,” Makoto says, perking up.

“Sure,” Haru says and Makoto beams.

“You can see them before that, of course. You should come to dinner with me sometime,” he says. Haru flushes but Makoto doesn't seem to notice.

“Okay,” he says. Makoto's smile is so bright Haru almost doesn't notice that he's managed to totally sidestep actually talking about himself. When did he get so good at that? Haru snakes a foot out from the blanket and nudges Makoto's. Makoto looks down at it and back at Haru. Haru frowns at him pointedly. Makoto slowly leans back in his chair and sighs.

“I'm still not good at talking about me, Haru,” he says seriously.

“I'm a little better, but if there's something you want to know you should probably just ask me.” Haru chews on his lip. That Makoto can admit it was a problem and that he was working on it was proof enough that he _was_ better at it. He wasn't refusing to talk, he just didn't know where to begin. Haru can understand that.

He thinks about everything he wants to ask. _How was college? Do you still swim? Who got you to admit you have a problem with putting yourself last? Where did Mariko come from? Why do you have a house?_ They all sound like walking over land mines to Haru. He isn't sure he's ready for some of the answers yet. He settles for something safer that he's been curious about anyway.

“Why did you become a firefighter? I thought you wanted to coach...” he asks. Makoto lights up and Haru relaxes.

“I still coach!” Makoto laughs and Haru looks at him. This whole time he hadn't mentioned that.

“I can't believe I forgot to tell you! I coach at a swim club in town. I teach the three years and over classes.” Haru tilts his head.

“You've never mentioned it,” he accuses. Makoto smiles at him.

“I do it during the winter, so I can work both schedules out.”

“Ah,” that explains how Haru had no idea. It was still just October.

“You didn't answer me.”

“Sorry, I got ahead of myself didn't I?” Haru nods and waits. Makoto takes a drink of his own water and goes on.

“In my last year of college, I was working part-time at a pool in town. I was actually thinking about applying there to coach once I graduated, but...” Haru cocks an eyebrow at him. Makoto had thought about staying in Tokyo? That seemed unlikely.

“Anyway, one of my friends was working there too, and he kind of talked me into volunteering at a fire station. I thought, why not? I couldn't do much but maybe I could help a little when I had time.” Haru snorts. There was no way Makoto had actual free time in his last year of college if he already had a job. Makoto seems to understand, and he flashes Haru a reassuring smile.

“It was fine, really. I didn't do much the first couple times. But there was one day where they were short staffed, and they asked me to ride along and help.” Makoto's tone has gone serious and Haru stares at him.

“You didn't have any training or anything though?” Makoto laughs.

“God no, I had no idea what they thought _I_ could do,” Makoto runs a hand through his hair.

“Were you,” _hurt_ “safe?” Haru asks. Makoto blinks back at him.

“Oh, I didn't actually go into the fire, I wasn't in any real danger.” Haru relaxes. It takes Makoto a long moment to continue.

“It was actually really horrible,” Makoto says quietly.

“It was an apartment fire, and the first time I'd ever seen one. There were so many units they had to go through. I felt really useless,” Makoto isn't smiling, and Haru shivers under his blankets.

“They kept bringing people out, and not everyone was okay, you know? Fires are dangerous and all that. But the firefighters kept going back. Each time they brought someone out, they'd head right back in.”

“Were you scared?” Haru asks, his own voice low.

“Terrified. They brought out this one woman, and she stopped breathing. They knew there were more people inside, and I could see the firefighter trying to decide between staying and helping her or going back in and saving someone else, so I...” Makoto looks up at Haru and a guilty smile tugs at his lips.

“I did something kind of stupid.” Haru leans forward, urging him to explain.

“I told the firefighter to go back, that I'd take care of her. I knew CPR from school and I thought we had a better chance as saving two lives that way.” Makoto's smiling triumphantly now, and Haru can guess how the story ends.

“You saved her?”

“Yeah, I guess I did. It changed my life, Haru. I graduated and got on the next bus to training.” Makoto's smile catches him, and Haru finds himself returning it.

“You did good.” _I'm proud of you_.

“Thank you, Haru.”

Haru lets them slip into less intense topics after that, not sure if he can handle any more emotional revelations in one night. Once Haru got him started, Makoto was happy to go on and on about his work both at the pool and at the fire station. Haru eventually slumps down to lie on the couch, taking the blankets with him. He's surrounded by Makoto's scent, which he's starting to admit to himself he might have a problem with. Its strong enough that Haru can smell it even through his stuffed nose, and he finds it comforting. Even the tone of Makoto rambling off about a fire station potluck gone awry is soothing to him. He can't remember the last time he felt so warm. He drifts off listening to Makoto, and doesn't stir when Makoto gets up and brushes his bangs away and mutters a quiet _'goodnight Haru-chan'_ before flipping the lights off and padding away.

 

Makoto knew he was dreaming, but it didn't stop him from leaning into the willing mouth below him. It didn't stop him from running his hands up a firm back, and licking into the mouth when he got a little purr out of it. He wasn't really sure who he was dreaming about, but when they reached out and grabbed him through the front of his jeans, he didn't really care. Tatsumi maybe? He had mentioned him to Haru earlier, even if he had demoted him to a 'friend' in his story.

Makoto moved down his jaw, alternating between soft feather light kisses and gentle nips. Makoto licked his way down his throat, and when he bit softly into his collarbone it was decidedly not Tatsumi who let out a moan in his hair. Makoto tries to pick his head up and look at him, but a slim hand grabs him by the back of the neck, gently tugging him lower.

Another hiss of a moan escapes the man above him, and Makoto finds himself moving his mouth lower. He puts his mouth to work on a pert nipple as he uses his hands to work off a belt. The hand on his neck moves into his hair, fingers splaying out across the back of his head. Makoto hums appreciatively and finally gets the buckle undone and shoves the pants down.

Makoto gives the man a squeeze through his boxers before moving lower, settling down on his knees between his legs. He trails bites down a solid hipbone before hooking his thumbs under the band and sliding the boxers down in what he knows is an excruciating pace. The other man gasps as his dick is finally set free, and moans when Makoto moves almost lazily down the junction of hip and thigh.

Instead of giving him what he wants, Makoto nuzzles the base of his cock with his nose and inhales deeply. The scent is strong, clean and _so_ familiar, but he still can't connect it to a name. It's on the tip of his tongue. Makoto smiles at the thought, and puts it to work laving stripes on his inner thigh. He closes his mouth around a spot and sucks it red. Makoto can hear the man panting above him, and the hand in his hair gives him an impatient squeeze.

Amused, Makoto considers teasing him more. He grabs him with a free hand and gives him a few half strength pumps, and the man actually wines above him. That seals it, Makoto's amusement promptly flames up into arousal and he leans in and licks the head. He can feel the tremor run through the others thighs and he swallows his dick with a smile. He runs his tongue over it and tries a light suck, and the man shudders and groans. Whoever it was Makoto doesn't think they could stay on their feet for much longer. Makoto pushes his mouth farther down on him, and peeks up at his face.

Dark lashes frame piercingly blue eyes, highlighted by the flush from his face to his chest. One hand remains in Makoto's hair, the other has a knuckle shoved in his mouth in a vain attempt at quieting himself. Makoto feels his arousal pool low in his stomach and ignite.

He wakes up gasping in a cold sweat. It takes him a disoriented minute before he collapses back on his bed. _Crap._ There was no mistaking it, that had been Haru in his dream. That had definitely been a dream about _blowing_ Haru. This was so, _so_ not good. Makoto shoves a pillow in his face and groans into it.

He slumps his way to the bathroom and runs the water in his sink. He blinks at his reflection before ducking down and splashing his face with the icy water. He needs to calm down. If he gets weird around Haru now... No. They'll be fine.

He towels his face off and makes his way to the closet, and fumbles blindly around for running clothes. He changes in the dark. It was a little earlier than he normally got up, but there was no way he trusted himself to go back to sleep after that.

He stops next to Mariko and leans down to brush her hair away from her face. She'll sleep for at least another hour, easy. Smiling to himself, flips the monitor on. He grabs one and heads downstairs.

The house is still dim, but Makoto can still make out Haru's sleeping form on the couch. He's curled under all the blankets, wrapped around the pillow on his side. Makoto feels a fresh wave of guilt at the sight. Haru looks so relaxed and unguarded in his sleep that it makes Makoto feel a bit like he's betrayed him.

He shakes out of it and slips into his running shoes. Reluctantly, he heads back over to Haru. Makoto gets close enough to see his face, and feels relieved to see it's not half as red as it had been the night before. Gently, he reaches out and touches his forehead. It doesn't feel like a fever anymore. Makoto doesn't move his hand. He knows Haru hates extra contact but a few more seconds won't hurt anyone. Makoto closes his eyes and inhales.

“Makoto?” Makoto yelps and falls over backwards. Haru blinks at him slowly. Makoto's heart races.

“Sorry!” Makoto tries to whisper. His voice comes out too high and squeaks. Haru yawns.

“You okay?” Haru rubs at his eyes.

“I'm fine! I didn't mean to wake you up,” he says, willing his voice to come back down.

“S'fine. What time is it?” Haru yawns again and Makoto smiles at him.

“Too early for you,” he says. Haru stops mid yawn and looks at him.

“Seriously! I was just going to go for a run, you can go back to sleep,” he says, motioning to the running shoes. Haru looks at him for a second before his eyes shoot wide and rapidly look away. Makoto tilts his head but doesn't ask.

“Hey, can I leave this with you?” He holds up the monitor and turns the volume on. Haru looks at it and shrugs. Makoto sets it on the table and gets to his feet.

“Call me if anything happens, but she'll probably just sleep.” Haru nods, his eyes already drooping.

“Go back to sleep Haru. I'll be back in a bit.” Haru falls back against the couch before Makoto can finish talking, and he's fairly confident that he's asleep before Makoto closes the door on his way out.

 

Its over an hour later when Makoto creeps back into the house. Haru had been sleeping pretty lightly in case Mariko needed him, and he stirs when the door opens. He's trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes when Makoto comes in.

“Awake now?” Makoto asks quietly. Haru sits up.

“Yeah,” he says. He opens his eyes and thinks about crawling back under the blankets. Makoto's covered in a thin sheen of sweat, wearing the same shirt Haru had just brought back the day before. So that wasn't a dream.

“How are you feeling? You look better,” Makoto says sitting down in front of him and scratching a shoulder.

“I told you I'd be fine,” he grumbles.

“Mm-hmm,” Makoto hums. Haru frowns at him.

“Do you want anything? Breakfast?” Makoto scratches over his chest.

“What are you doing?” Haru asks, curiosity getting the better of him. Makoto looks surprised and follows Haru's gaze down to his hand, still idly scratching over his t-shirt.

“Oh right, this is the shirt you borrowed isn't it?” Haru's eyes shoot wide and his mouth goes dry. _He knew about that?_ Makoto sees his panic and gives him a little laugh.

“I don't mind Haru, you used to borrow my clothes all the time.” Haru just nods. That was certainly true, though he never borrowed them for quite the same reason.

“You washed it huh? I didn't even notice when I put it on,” Makoto picks the collar up and smells it absently. Haru flushes, thinking about all the times he had done the exact same thing.

“It's alright, I'm probably just allergic to your detergent,” Makoto smiles and Haru's breath hitches in his throat. Now that he's looking, he can definitely tell the skin is red and inflamed around Makoto's neck and sleeves.

“What?” Haru chokes. He tries again.

“Why are you still wearing it then?!” Makoto tilts his head and laughs.

“Haha, it's fine,” but Haru is having none of it.

“ _Makoto_ ,” he says, voice bordering on a whine. Makoto looks at him and smiles, too calm about it. He grabs the hem and pulls it over his head, and Haru sucks in a breath. Makoto's torso is red and blotchy. Haru can see little welts raised where Makoto had been scratching. Makoto catches him staring.

“Huh, it normally only does that when I'm stressed,” he says, looking down at the welts. Haru grimaces as Makoto drags a finger over one, crossing it. A fresh welt rises in his wake.

“Does that?” He questions. Makoto hums.

“Yeah. It's called stress-induced skin writing, but sometimes strong chemicals can bring it out too.”

“Skin writing?”

“It has a big scientific name too, but yeah. See?” Makoto draws a smiley face on his bicep and Haru watches in fascination as it raises up a second later.

“Doesn't it hurt?”

“Nah, just itches a little.” Haru inches closer. He's not sure when he got so close. He wants nothing more than to reach out and try it, but that would probably be inappropriate. Especially since he caused it, he reminds himself with a little twist of guilt.

“Go ahead,” Makoto says and Haru looks up at him. Makoto smiles and offers him an arm. Tentatively, Haru reaches out and touches his shoulder. He feels like he's being shocked, and it's not just his breath that comes in uneven.

Lightly, he drags his fingers down, leaving a few wavering lines behind them. They raise up and Haru draws back. He hears Makoto exhale, and he lets his held breath out too.

“See? It's okay.” Makoto is smiling at him again. Haru looks down at his fingers.

“Don't worry about it. I'll take a shower and an antihistamine and be good as new,” Makoto says, clasping a hand over Haru's shoulder. Haru looks at him. Makoto really does seem fine, Haru can't see any of the tell-tale signs of him holding something back. Haru gets to his feet.

“I'll make breakfast,” he says, stretching his shoulders. Makoto pouts.

“You're still sick, I can-” Haru shuts him up with a look.

“I'm _not_ sick. Go,” he adds, nodding to the stairs. Makoto looks like arguing before grabbing his shirt and giving in with a little sigh. Haru waits until he hears Makoto's footsteps trail all the way up the stairs before covering his face with his hands, embarrassment finally getting to him. This is going to be a long day, he thinks to himself. He smiles, and heads into the kitchen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! it got kinda long again, huh... oh well? anyway guess what?? There's more art!! oh my gosh, it's so so good you guys need to [_go look immediately!_](http://supermisu.tumblr.com/post/102553947870/first-of-three-or-four-pages-that-may-or-may-not) It's the first page of a comic that is actually kind of spoilers for this fic, technically, but it's just the first page so far and the only spoilery bit is that they're together (finally lol) thanks for the support everyone, you're all so sweet I don't know what to do with myself :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's Makoto,” he says so quietly he wonders if Rin can even make it out over the din of background conversations.  
> “Wha- What about Makoto?” Rin looks past Haru to watch Makoto, and gives Haru a confused look.  
> “Rin, it's _Makoto_ ,” he says slowly, a little annoyed he has to spell it out. Rin's mouth falls and hangs open. Haru is suddenly too warm.

Haru flinches when his phone rings. Again. He straightens up and digs it out of his bag. He smiles when it's Makoto this time. _'Still coming tomorrow?'_ Haru snorts. _'Of course'_ he sends back. There wasn't much that would keep him from making it to Mariko's first birthday.

He looks back to the clothes rack in front of him. He just had to decide on what to get her. Baby clothes all looked the same to him. And they were sized by age, which Haru found unbelievable. How could all one year olds be the same size? It didn't make sense.

Haru's phone rings again. _'Great!'_ Haru _was_ looking forward to seeing some of his old friends. He wasn't so sure about the rest. He knew Makoto had invited Yamazaki and that Kisumi guy, and surely other people Haru didn't know. Haru sighs. He'll handle it somehow.

He's still flipping through the same rack when his phone rings again. He can't help but groan when it's Rin. _'It doesn't have to be pink'_ it says. Haru blinks at the message until he remembers he had been talking about what kind of gifts to get Mariko. _'I know that already'_ he sends back. He moves on to a different rack.

_'And don't just get her a mackerel!'_ Haru glares at it. Rin had been insufferable since he found out Haru was coming to Mariko's birthday, and had been pestering him nonstop about his present. He didn't see what the big deal was. Makoto would be happy either way, and Mariko was _always_ happy.

_'Is she even old enough to eat mackerel?'_ he sends back just to annoy him. He moves on to the next rack. Everything was really, really pink. It starts to blur and he hastily swings around to a different aisle.

_'How would I know?! Ask makoto'_ Haru blinks and gives him a minute. _'no wait don't ask makoto because you're not getting her a friggin mackerel!'_ Haru smiles. That was better. He doesn't send anything back, choosing to wander around and let Rin stew for a bit.

He's digging through a discount bin of onesies when his phone rings again. _'Haru, I'm serious'_ it says. Haru snorts and a flash of black and white catches his eye. He puts his phone back in his pocket and tugs the fabric out from the bottom of the pile. A broad grin covers his face as he holds it up because it's _perfect_.

 

The next day brings Haru little relief, and he finds himself playing in the ribbon on the gift waiting for Makoto to pick him up. He realizes by the third time he's untied and retied the bow that he's probably nervous. He hasn't seen everyone since Rin came back. If he was being honest with himself, it wasn't like he had really been present at that either. He and Makoto had made up, now it was time to make up with everyone else too.

He makes himself sit, and checks his phone. It remains blank, just like he knew it would. He sets it on his desk and thinks better of it, sliding it into a pocket of his bag so he can't forget it. He frowns when he realizes how attached to the thing he's become. It rings and he dives for it anyway.

_'don't forget to wrap your present'_ Rin sends. Haru scowls at it. _'does butcher paper count?'_ he sends back, eyeing the sparkly little package on his desk. _'Haru I SWEAR'_ he gets a split second later. Good. _'it's wrapped'_ he concedes. _'good. wear something nice too'_ Haru's eyebrows pinch at that. Something _nice?_ He looks down at himself and does a quick inventory. His clothes were fine, right? They were clean, at least.

_'nice?'_ he sends back. They were having her party at the Takagawa's restaurant, and if it didn't scream casual then nothing did. Haru stands and walks to his room, pulling out drawers and looking over his clothes. Maybe he should change his pants at least. He's about to question Rin again when Rin preempts him.

_'Look, I think this is really important to Makoto. Probably more than he's letting on, so yeah, try not to look like you'd rather just be floating off somewhere'_ Haru frowns. He remembers when Makoto had brought it up, the careful casualness of his tone. Rin was probably right. This was a milestone for him, and he wanted to share it with everyone.

Haru swallows back a lump of guilt at wishing he had invited less people. Makoto and Mariko deserve to be surrounded by people who love them, even if a few of them make Haru a little uncomfortable. He digs out a pair of black jeans from the bottom of his drawer and changes into them, appreciating the way the denim hugs his legs, clingy all way down to his ankles. They were almost as tight and comforting as his jammers. He remembers the first time Nagisa had cornered him in the store and all but forced him to try on skinny jeans. He hadn't been a believer then, and he still didn't wear them often, but he had to admit they looked better on him than a lot of his other pants, and none of his dressier pants fit him anymore anyway.

Makoto calls before he can consider a different shirt, and he casts a fleeting look at himself in the mirror as he answers it, already heading for the door. His sweater over his collared shirt was a deep blue with a wide neckline, and looks loose on him now that his pants were so tight, but it'll have to do. Haru frowns and tugs at his hair.

“Hi Haru!” Makoto answers cheerily when Haru connects the call.

“Hey,” he says feeling the nerves from earlier start to drain away.

“Are you here already?”

“Yep! I'm parked outside, did you need help with anything?” Haru can hear the click of Makoto undoing his seat belt and a fond little smile plays across his reflection.

“No, stay there. I'll come down. Bye,” he says, hanging up before Makoto can argue. He shrugs his bag over his shoulder and picks up his gift. When he looks back at the mirror, he thinks he doesn't look that bad after all.

 

Makoto plays with his keys as he waits for Haru to come down from his apartment. It'd been a good day so far, but he was actually a little nervous about the party. His parents and the twins had been great, but that was a small group and a familiar place. He had no idea how Mariko would react to the horde of people he had invited to night, or how his friends would all get along with each other. It wasn't like he could leave someone out, so he hopes they can all just get along long enough to eat some cake, at least.

He sees a blur of blue and black out of the corner of his eye and when he looks at Haru approaching the truck, he drops his keys. Haru looked like he could have been in a magazine. Had his legs always been that long? Whoever put the thought of skinny jeans in Haru's head should be punished. _Or given a medal_ , Makoto thinks as Haru passes around the nose of the truck, giving more crude parts of Makoto's head a new, and appreciated, view.

Haru climbs into the truck with his usual poise, and Makoto breaks into a wide smile when he looks at him. Haru looks away and slides a little wrapped package across the seat to him. Makoto thanks him before he can say something stupid, and he picks up his keys off the seat and get the truck started.

Mariko dozes in the car seat in the back as he drives them over, and Makoto fills the quiet with the story of visiting his parents earlier that day. He talks about the gifts they got her, and reminds Haru that he could have come with him. Haru only shakes his head and looks out the window. Makoto doesn't let it get to him. Haru will go when he's good and ready, and that was fine.

Traffic is easy, and they make it to Makoto's house in good time. He manages to get Mariko out of her car seat and into his arms without waking her, and he unlocks the door and lets Haru in behind him.

“Give me a few minutes to change, and we can head out,” he says. He looks at Haru again when he nods and looks away. He smiles and heads upstairs. If Haru can dress to impress, so can Makoto.

 

Makoto says something as he rounds the corner into Haru's line of sight when he comes back downstairs, but Haru doesn't hear a word. Makoto is wearing a white button down, first few buttons left undone, leaving the hint of on undershirt peeking through, tucked neatly into black slacks. Haru swallows, his throat suddenly gone dry. He silently thanks Rin for giving him a warning to change.

“Haru?” Makoto asks, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. Haru swallows again. He has no idea what Makoto had said.

“...sorry?” he says, finally pulling his eyes away. He misses the little smile on Makoto's face.

“I said I've got a bag of decorations out in the garage, would you throw it in the truck while I take the stuff mom and dad got me out?” Makoto says patiently. Haru tugs his bag off and stands up.

“Thanks Haru, give me a second and I'll open it so I can back the truck in,” Makoto says as they both go towards the door to the garage. Haru steals another look at him out of the corner of his eye, this time taking in smaller details, like the braided leather cord that disappears under Makoto's shirt, and the small silver studs in his ears.

Makoto opens the door and flips the lights on. Haru's never really paid any attention to the garage before. He'd only been in a few times, and only then to take trash to the garbage can. Makoto flips a switch and the garage door groans to life, slowly rising. Makoto goes towards the truck waiting outside and Haru takes a look around.

The party decorations are instantly sighted by the bright paper bag, cheery tufts of pink and yellow sticking out of the top. Haru looks past the little stack of yet more cardboard boxes and a neglected stroller and finds a mass of fabric that sits a little higher than his waist. Curious, he walks up to it, unbelieving when the shape becomes more defined.

Makoto is busy lugging his gifts inside, and doesn't seem to mind Haru prying so he reaches for a corner of the fabric. Holding his breath, he gently lifts it up and over, revealing what was underneath. Polished black paint and sleek chrome lines flow around the frame of a motorcycle. Haru doesn't hear Makoto come back in, and gingerly reaches out to touch the handlebar.

“Surprised?” Makoto's amused voice comes from behind him and Haru's hand shoots back to his side as if he'd been burned. He whirls around to Makoto who just smiles in front of him, leaning in the door frame.

“A motorcycle? Is it yours?” Haru asks. Makoto smiles wider.

“Since when..?” Haru looks back at the bike, and he can feel Makoto walk up behind him.

“Oh, I've had it for years,” Makoto starts, walking past Haru and around to the other side. He rests a hand on the seat and smiles down at it fondly. Makoto looks up at him with an apologetic look that Haru doesn't understand.

“It's kind of a long story?” he offers. Haru frowns. This feels like something he can push, so he does.

“Cliff notes?” Makoto laughs and rubs the back of his neck with a hand, and Haru's eyes are drawn to the tattoo on the underside of his forearm.

“Okay, the short version is, I got it in college?” Haru remains unimpressed, so Makoto continues.

“It used to belong to a friend of mine, he taught me all about them. When we split ways he told me to keep it, that I'd use it more than him anyway.” Haru knows there's more to it than that, but Makoto _had_ said it was a long story.

“Who just gives away a motorcycle?” he says instead. Makoto laughs and picks up the cover.

“There might have been an element of trying to get a rise out of his rich parents in there too,” he says. Haru raises an eyebrow at that.

“He used you,” he says flatly. Makoto throws the cover over the bike.

“Haru,” Makoto says, tone telling Haru that he doesn't agree. Haru shrugs. Makoto shakes his head.

“Like I said, it's a long story.” Haru stares at the fabric draping what was now unmistakably a motorcycle and thinks about it.

“Want to go for a ride sometime?” Makoto asks lightly but Haru's eyes shoot up to him. Makoto smiles and waves the attention off.

“I haven't taken it out in a while, so it'd be good for it. If you want, that is,” he says, looking down at the bike on the last bit.

_“Yes.”_ Haru says without thinking. Makoto looks up at him in surprise.

“I mean, yeah, sure.” he tries again. Makoto breaks back into a smile and Haru feels it reaching out to him.

“Okay,” he says. Haru gets the urge to reach out and touch Makoto's face. He wants to trace that smile and try to absorb it for himself. He takes a step towards Makoto, who keeps smiling down at him. Haru takes a breath. He's so close, with only the covered bike between them. Makoto's phone chirps and the moment is lost. Makoto pulls it out of his pocket and looks back up a little flustered.

“We really need to get going,” he says and Haru nods. He steps back and grabs the bag of decorations while Makoto goes back upstairs for Mariko. As soon as Makoto's out of sight, he lets his head fall back on his shoulders and groans.

By the time they reach the Takagawa's restaurant, Mariko is waking up. Haru takes her while Makoto brings the baby bag and decorations. As soon as Haru picks her up she's reaching a hand out and tugging at his face, and he leans down patiently until she's had her fill of face grabbing. There's a sign on the door that reads _'Closed for Private Event'_ and Haru feels his nerves returning when they walk into the empty restaurant.

Takagawa-san comes to them, and Makoto leans down to hug her when she wraps an arm around his waist. She eyes Haru for a moment before offering to take Mariko so they can set up, and Haru reluctantly hands her over. Ichiro-san appears loudly a minute later, and he helps Makoto push tables together while Haru detangles streamers and hangs them up.

In the end, the place looks totally transformed from the last time Haru had visited. The booths were pushed to the back, and tables that usually seat four are pushed into a long row, alternating pink and yellow table cloths, and could easily sit twelve. Makoto had bought enough streamers to cover nearly the whole ceiling, and they Haru had crisscrossed them and let them dangle at the ends. Even the chairs got bows. Ichiro-san and Makoto fall into an empty booth seat to admire the makeover. Haru considers it for a moment before squeezing himself on the end next to Makoto. They share the silence like the calm before the storm, punctuated with giggles and coos from Mariko in the back room.

“Thank you for this,” Makoto says quietly. Haru looks up at him, and can see Ichiro-san do the same from his other side.

“Both of you. I can't tell you how much it means to me...” Makoto trails off, still staring ahead. Haru looks across him at Ichiro-san, who looks back to Haru. Haru presses his leg into Makoto's, and Makoto finally looks over to him and smiles.

“Don't ya get all mushy on me now, son!” Ichiro-san interrupts, slapping a hand on Makoto's shoulder. Makoto winces and Ichiro-san gets to his feet.

“If you want to thank me, get a date!” Ichiro-san's laugh is loud as it follows him back into the kitchen, leaving them alone. Haru doesn't move, and neither does Makoto, their legs still pressed together.

It ends too soon for Haru, when Ichiro-san comes stumbling back out from the kitchen with a bottle of amber liquid and a couple of glasses under one arm. Makoto smiles and winces at the same time when Ichiro-san slams a glass down in front of him.

“Ichiro-san, that's not really necessary,” Makoto starts but he's cut off when Ichiro-san starts pouring into Makoto's glass.

“Nonsense Makoto. Your child is turning one today, that's a milestone if I've ever seen one,” he says, smiling like it was _his_ birthday. Makoto makes a face as his glass gets fuller and fuller.

“Now I've been savin' this bottle for just such an occasion, and you are going to drink and celebrate!” Makoto's glass is nearly half full now, and the smell of alcohol is turning Haru's stomach.

“Please just stop pouring,” Makoto whines. Ichiro-san laughs and tilts the bottle up, pausing. Makoto lets out a relieved sigh and slides the cup to himself.

“I suppose one won't hurt?” Haru eyes the glass. He's no expert on alcohol, but he's pretty confident that that amount would constitute several drinks for normal people.

“That's the spirit! Haru, are you a drinking man?” Ichiro-san wheels his attention to Haru pointing the neck of the bottle at him. Haru sits up straighter, unsure how to answer. He looks up at Makoto and Makoto smiles in understanding.

“Ichiro-san, there's more than enough in my glass for both of us. Why don't you have the other?” Makoto says smoothly, bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip. Haru watches in amazement when Makoto's face doesn't betray a hint of displeasure at the taste. In fact Makoto actually smiles and gives it and gives it a hum of approval. Apparently that was the correct response, because in the next moment Ichiro-san has planted himself back on Makoto's other side and is pouring a generous amount for himself.

“That really is a good bottle, Ichiro-san,” Makoto says after another sip. Ichiro-san agrees by drinking a gulp of his.

“My gift to you, minus my glass of course,” he says. Makoto slides his glass towards Haru. The smell wafts up to him and he wrinkles his nose at it. Makoto chuckles under his breath and takes another drink, his eyes saying that he had expected as much.

“It's been quite a year, hasn't it?” Ichiro-san says. Makoto nods and leans back against the seat.

“It's hard to believe its already been a year.”

“I know it hasn't always been easy on ya, but you made it. And you'll make it next year, and the year after that.” It's the most serious he's ever heard Ichiro-san sound, and Haru and Makoto both look over at him as he takes a much more dignified sip.

“You're a good man Makoto. And you have good friends, and good family who will always be there for you. I would have been proud to have a son like you,” he says, turning in his seat to look Makoto in the eyes. Makoto blinks fast, and when he speaks, his voice comes out watery.

“Thank you,” he says, at a loss. Ichiro-san clamps a hand on his shoulder, and looks Makoto in the eyes, while his own eyes nearly tear up. He pats Makoto's shoulder before heading back into the kitchen with his glass without another word. Makoto sucks in an unsteady breath, and Haru nudges him with his leg. When Makoto looks at him his eyes are wet.

“His son...” Makoto stops himself, laughing when a tear falls from his eyes before wiping it off with the back of his hand.

“His son died when he was still a teenager,” Makoto says quietly, and Haru goes still.

“He would have been our age,” he says, looking into his glass. It starts to click into place. Maybe the Takagawas were just as lonely.

“Sorry, it's just...” Makoto's wearing his smile again, and Haru wishes he knew what to say.

“I'm really lucky, is all,” Makoto finishes with a little laugh. Haru thinks that's just like him, smiling and focusing on the positives when he probably wants to cry.

“He's right,” he says, looking down at their legs.

“About the friends... and family.” Haru chews his lip. That had sounded more reassuring in his head.

“You have more friends and family than anyone else I know,” he says softly. Haru looks up at him with a little smile. He doesn't tell him that luck has nothing to do with it. Makoto wipes at his eyes again and takes a deep breath, letting it exhale in a weak laugh.

“Thanks, Haru-chan,” he says, grinning. Haru elbows him without any force. Makoto laughs and takes a sip from his glass.

“How can you drink that stuff anyway? Smells like paint thinner,” Haru says, his nose scrunching up as a new wave of the smell hits him. It wasn't exactly like paint thinner, but it was close. Makoto laughs.

“I wasn't lying earlier; it's good. Doesn't _taste_ like paint thinner at all.” Haru just looks at him, unconvinced.

“Honestly, Haru. I have been known to have a drink every now and then.” Haru arches an eyebrow at him. Makoto smiles and brings the glass back up to his lips, as if he could convince Haru by drinking more of it.

“You get drunk?” Haru asks bluntly, making Makoto choke on his aborted sip. Haru's about to apologize when Makoto starts laughing again.

“Jeez Haru, don't do that to me,” he gets in between breaths.

“Don't worry, I haven't really gotten drunk in.. Well, a little over a year now, and there's no way one little glass will get me there. It was just a nice gesture on Ichiro-san's part,” Makoto says, setting his glass gingerly down, still smiling at Haru.

“Hmm,” Haru says, leaning back against the seat.

“Was it Nagisa?” He asks after a second. Makoto snorts.

“Ah, no. Rin and Sousuke. Mostly,” he adds. Haru frowns. Rin had invited him to go drinking countless times, and he had always turned him down. Had Makoto been there too?

“Wait, was it Nagisa for you?” Makoto asks, sounding curious. Haru grimaces.

“No way, Nagisa got you drunk?” Haru shakes his head at the sound of awe in Makoto's voice.

“Not drunk. He brought beer to my house once, said he wouldn't leave until I had one too.” Haru shrugs. Overall it had been pretty tame, especially for Nagisa.

“Well? Did you have one?” Makoto prompts, nudging his knee with his own. Haru's face scrunches up at the thought.

“I tried one. It was gross.” Makoto laughs.

“Let me guess, you didn't like the first sip, and you've never tried again huh?” Haru blinks at him.

“How?” Makoto smiles and wraps an arm over Haru's shoulders, pulling him up into his side. Haru's instinct is to stiffen up, and he does even when his pulse spikes and jackhammers in his chest. Makoto's arm is heavy and his side is warm, his breath smells a little like alcohol and nothing like paint thinner.

“Because Haru is Haru,” Makoto says, like it explains anything. Haru frowns and looks away, slowly letting his spine unwind.

“I thought it was kind of gross at first too.” Makoto says like its a secret and Haru looks back at him.

“But I kept trying different things until I found what I liked,” Makoto says, eyes on Haru. Haru looks back at Makoto's glass.

“Go at your own pace, but you never know what you'll find Haru.” Haru almost laughs. He has no idea.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. Makoto's arm squeezes him a little but doesn't leave, and Haru tentatively rests his head back on it. Makoto takes a sip with his free hand, and they sit like that for a quiet moment.

The bell over the door chimes and opens to admit Kou, followed closely by Rin. Kou spots them first, and all but runs over to them. Makoto untangles himself and meets her half way, taking a gift bag from her before she latches onto one of his arms. Haru gets to his feet as Makoto hugs her back. He stands a little apart until Rin throws an arm around him and jerks him into the group. Kou looks at him almost shyly and Haru smiles a little from under Rin's arm before she closes in on his other side.

“It's good to see you Haruka. You look really good.” she says, squeezing his arm.

“You too, Kou,” he says and she beams just like she always used to whenever someone remembers her preferred name. Rin rolls his eyes.

“Jeez you two are embarrassing,” he says. Kou glares up at him.

“Who was the one who almost started to cry on the drive over?” She asks and Haru snorts at the bloom covering Rin's face.

“Oh that was definitely Rin,” a deep voice comes from the side and all four of them look up to see Yamazaki walking in the door, brightly wrapped box tucked under one arm.

“Shut. Up.” Rin grits out and Kou and Makoto share a glance. Yamazaki looks at Haru still tucked under Rin's arm and frowns. If Haru steps a little closer to Rin, it's certainly not to annoy Yamazaki. Yamazaki stares at him for another second before turning his attention to Makoto. To Haru's vast annoyance, Yamazaki closes the distance to him and holds out a fist, which Makoto bumps with his own with a comfortable ease that Haru instantly envies.

“Hey Makoto,” he says, and Haru watches as his face transforms from the mild disdain he looked at Haru with to something like fondness.

“You're not pulling any punches today, huh?” he says giving Makoto a once over that was way too long for Haru's comfort. To his amazement, the line doesn't even phase Makoto.

“Hey Sousuke! I'm glad you all made it okay!” Makoto says happily, taking the box when Yamazaki offers it. He stacks everything neatly on the table with Haru's present and motions them towards the back. Rin lets Haru go, and Haru takes a moment to look them over while Makoto and Kou go over the decorations.

Rin hadn't been kidding about them dressing nice. Kou was wearing a black and white floral dress with brilliant pops of fuchsia and pinks and heels that put her at an eye level with Rin, and Haru thinks he spotted pearls earlier. Rin had his hair pulled back, and was wearing all black, with the exception of a fire red tie over his dress shirt. Haru grudgingly admits that even Yamazaki looked good for the occasion, black polo layered under a blazer with khaki trousers.

Haru reminds himself that he looks fine. If he didn't, Rin surely would have let him know. Haru joins them just in time for Rin to spot the unfinished drink, and he shoots Makoto a sly look.

“Starting without me Makoto?” he says through grinning teeth. Makoto tilts his head.

“No? You guys are still a little early?” He says, confused. He looks at Haru and Haru glances at the table. Makoto looks back at Rin in time to see him flash a toothy grin and jerk towards the table.

“Sousuke!” Makoto calls before Rin can get there. Haru watches as Yamazaki solidly blocks Rin's way and holds the glass up over his head.

“Got it,” Yamazaki sounds amused as he takes Makoto's glass and finishes it in one go before Rin's very agitated eyes.

“Thanks Sou,” Makoto says relieved, and Haru looks at him. Just how close was he with Yamazaki?

“No fun allowed,” Rin says, pouting. Sousuke puts a hand on Rin's shoulder and Rin skirts out from under it, sticking his tongue out as he makes his escape. Sousuke grins and gives chase, making Rin run in earnest. Kou sighs.

“Some boys never change,” she says. Haru moves closer to Makoto and looks at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Rin still can't hold his alcohol. There wasn't much left, but it's better not to risk it,” Makoto says to Haru behind a hand.

“He gets pretty emotional,” Kou adds. Haru shakes his head.

“He's already pretty emotional,” he says dryly. He thinks he hears Yamazaki snort.

“Exactly,” Makoto sums. The bell chimes again, and when they look up it's Nagisa and Rei. Nagisa shoves his little gift into Rei's arms and flies across the room.

“HARU-CHAAAN!” his voice impossibly loud as he launches himself at Haru. Haru braces for it, but Nagisa still nearly knocks him over when they collide.

“Haru-chan you came! And you look nice! And you're friends with Mako-chan again and that means you finally met Macchan!” Nagisa rubs his head on Haru's chest and Haru can only make out about half of what's falling out of Nagisa's mouth. He looks up at Rei helplessly.

“Hello, Haruka, Makoto,” Rei smiles.

“Nagisa, you're really too big and too old to be clinging to Haruka like that,” he says gently trying to pry Nagisa off. Nagisa picks his head up and leans his chin on Haru's chest to look up at him.

“I really missed you, Haru-chan!” he says, fat globs forming in the corners of his eyes.

“You're heavy,” he says. Nagisa gasps in mock hurt and slowly releases him. Once he's free Haru smiles at him and pats his head.

“I missed you too Nagisa, Rei,” he says, making eye contact with both of them. They look at each other, and Rei has to shoot out a hand to keep Nagisa from launching at him again. Makoto steps in before he can get too far.

“Thanks for coming, both of you,” he says with a smile, stepping in front of Haru and giving him some space.

“Mako-chan! Where's Macchan, we brought her presents! Although Rei's is super boring but mine is really cool so it's okay!”

“Mine's better!” Rin yells from the other side of the room, having finally reached a ceasefire with Yamazaki.

_“Boys,”_ Haru hears Kou mutter under her breath. Haru huffs in agreement.

Takagawa-san comes out with Mariko, and she's got a tiny tiara pinned into her blond curls. She's fully awake now, and claps and giggles when everyone surrounds her. She thrives off the attention as she gets passed around, and Makoto slips into the back to help Takagawa-san and Ichiro-san bring out big platters of food. Haru looks at Mariko, who's happily bouncing with Nagisa, and goes to join the help.

In short order, the tables are full of food and drinks, and the door is ringing every other minute. Haru doesn't recognize anyone who comes in, but Makoto lingers by the door and welcomes everyone warmly. Most of them are men and women of the fire department, and Haru looses track of their names within minutes. He sips his punch next to Kou, who comfortingly seems to be just as lost as Haru.

Haru tenses when a spot of pink appears outside the window, and his fears are confirmed when none other than Kisumi skips through the door and throws himself around Makoto. Haru slams his cup down hard enough that it splashes, and Rin elbows him from the other side.

“You okay Haru?” Rin doesn't seem like he's looking for something to make fun of him for, and after a second Haru sighs and looks away. Rin follows his line of sight and watches as Kisumi pats Makoto's bicep, giving it a squeeze and laughing. Even Yamazaki catches on and gives Kisumi a distrustful look.

“Oh, isn't that Kisumi? I haven't seen him in a long time,” Rin says. Haru and Yamazaki groan in unison from either side of him.

“Not long enough,” Yamazaki grumbles. Haru agrees despite himself and gives a curt nod. Kisumi spots them and heads over, Makoto waving him off as another couple come in through the door.

“I can't believe it! Rin, Sousuke _and_ Haru! It's really been a long time hasn't it?” Kisumi asks, pulling up a chair and making it a circle. Yamazaki shrugs and Haru does the same, taking a sip of his punch and looking back at Makoto, who's adding yet another gift to the crowded table.

“Hey Kisumi, this is my sister Gou-”

“Kou. Nice to meet you,” Kou interrupts. Rin rolls his eyes when she isn't looking.

“It's very nice to meet you, Kou-san.” Kisumi bows to her, and takes her hand when she returns the gesture. He plants his lips over her knuckles and smiles up at her from under his bangs.

“Rin never told me his sister was so beautiful,” he says. Haru can feel the heat coming off Rin and shoots him a look.

“Ah, um, thank you,” Kou says, smiling and tugging her hand free.

“ _Kisumi_ ,” Rin starts, voice low. Kisumi smiles blandly at Rin before something catches his eye from behind him.

“Nagisa! You're here too?” Kisumi calls loudly and bounds off in Nagisa's direction.

“That bastard,” Rin growls. Kou discreetly wipes her hand on a napkin.

“Too touchy,” Haru supplies.

“Told you so,” Yamazaki adds. Rin groans.

“I don't remember him being that bad,” he says.

“Only because you're too touchy too,” Yamazaki says, looking bored. Rin throws a punch and he easily catches it. Haru watches them for a second and nearly jumps when Makoto comes up behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder.

“Doing okay?” He asks low enough to be just for Haru. Haru nods and Makoto squeezes his shoulder.

“I know its a lot, but I think this is about everyone,” he says, surveying the crowd. Haru looks around in mild amazement. There were so many people, and every one of them had dressed for the occasion. Haru can't help but be a little intimidated. Takagawa-san and Ichiro-san mill around, accepting compliments on the food and refilling beverages. Haru estimates that there are at least a dozen strangers packed into the small space.

The door rings again, and when Makoto looks up it's pure joy and amazement that spreads across his face. Haru looks at the newcomer curiously. His black hair was windblown and wild. He wore tight fitting black jeans like Haru, but unlike Haru, his were tucked into heavy looking leather boots that matched his jacket.

“Tatsumi!” Makoto calls. Tatsumi's eyes land on Makoto and his face breaks into a wide grin. Makoto walks over to him and pulls him into a hug so tight Haru can see Tatsumi's feet leave the ground. Haru drains his cup. Rin looks over when Haru goes stiff.

“Oi... Are you okay?” he asks quietly. Makoto puts Tatsumi down, but they're hands stay on each others arms. Haru bites his lip. Rin looks up at them and elbows Yamazaki.

“Go get me a coke, would you?” Rin asks sweetly. Yamazaki rubs his side but gets up without a word when he catches Rin's eyes.

“Thirtsy, Kou?” he asks. She stands up to join him, casting a worried look over to Haru. Once they're out of hearing range, Rin nudges him.

“So what's up fishboy?” he says. Haru scowls.

“Don't call me that,” he says automatically.

“Don't avoid the question. You've been acting weird. Weirder than normal for you anyway,” he adds. Haru glares at him but Rin meets his gaze evenly.

“Is it all the people? You don't have to talk to all of them,” Rin says, looking around the room. Haru shakes his head, before jerking it to look back at the door. Tatsumi and Makoto are still talking, and Haru wishes he could hear them.

“Haru, talk to me. I'm not Makoto, I can't just read your mind.” Haru looks up at Rin and Rin tilts his head. Haru blinks at him slowly.

“It's Makoto,” he says so quietly he wonders if Rin can even make it out over the din of background conversations.

“Wha- What about Makoto?” Rin looks past Haru to watch Makoto, and gives Haru a confused look.

“Rin, it's _Makoto_ ,” he says slowly, a little annoyed he has to spell it out. Rin's mouth falls and hangs open. Haru is suddenly too warm.

“I think... I like Makoto,” he says, eyes never leaving Rin's. Rin's eyes blow wide and for some reason _he_ blushes. Haru holds his breath waiting for a reaction.

“ _Shit_. Shit _Haru_.” Haru swallows. He gets that feeling. Haru can see Rin's throat working, and he wonders if he should have waited to tell him until he had a drink.

“So you're... Fuck.” Haru nods.

“And Makoto?” Rin's voice is a little higher than normal, but Haru doesn't trust his at all so he just shrugs.

“Jesus. Okay. Shit, I didn't even know you could _like_ like people Haru.” Haru frowns.

“I didn't know either,” he says quietly.

“No, I guess you wouldn't,” Rin says, thoughtful. Haru shoots him a glare and Rin shakes his head.

“Not like that, you were just never interested in anyone before. Right?”

“Never,” Haru concedes. Rin pushes his bangs back with the heel of his palm and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“So, you're acting weird because... of the people hanging all over Makoto?” he says like he's solving a murder. Haru hesitates before nodding.

“But you have no idea how Makoto feels, and I'm guessing you haven't told him yet either?” Haru nods again.

“You're the only one who knows,” he says and Rin sucks in a breath.

“Shit Haru,” he says, leaning back in his chair. Both of their faces are red.

“Yeah,” Haru says closing his eyes. His eyes dart open to Rin when he feels Rin awkwardly wrap his arms around him.

“Thanks for telling me,” Rin mutters in his ear. Haru exhales and relaxes, and Rin releases him after a moment, sitting back down in his chair next to him looking flustered.

“I know I don't say this enough, and I know I've fucked up pretty bad before but, I'm with you Haru. You're an annoying, stubborn, weird merboy, but you're also one of my best friends,” Rin looks at him with such a sincere expression that Haru feels his heart lump in his throat. The corners of his eyes suddenly feel tight.

“You're a good friend,” Haru says thickly. Rin sniffs and wipes at his face.

“Yeah, I'm just a fucking peach, ain't I?” Haru rolls his eyes and Rin laughs, balance restored. Yamazaki and Kou return with drinks, and Rin slides his chair a little closer to Haru's when Makoto comes over, leading Tatsumi. Haru takes a breath and Rin shoots him a reassuring look.

“Everyone, I want you to meet Kobayashi Tatsumi. You know Sousuke and Rin already.” Yamazaki grins and holds up a fist to bump and Rin nods at him.

“And this is Rin's sister Kou, and my friend Nanase Haruka” Makoto smiles down at them as he introduces them, and Tatsumi respectfully bows his head at each of them in turn.

“It's nice to meet you, Matsuoka-san. And especially you, Nanase-san, I've heard so much about you,” Tatsumi says, smiling as broadly as Makoto. Haru's jaw clenches. _What does that mean?_

“Nice to meet you too, Kobayashi-san,” he says, the words fitting strangely in his mouth. _Kobayashi-san_ laughs and leans on Makoto, and Haru's fists clench at his sides.

“Tell you what, I'll drop the honorifics if you do?” Haru nods stiffly and Makoto smiles.

“Thanks,” he says easily, like he really means it. Haru doesn't understand this guy.

“I'd really, really like to stay and chat, but more than that I want to meet Mariko,” he says looking back to Makoto. Makoto smiles and rests a hand on the small of his back to guide him through the crowd.

“Of course! I can't wait for you to meet her. I'll be back in a minute guys,” Makoto calls over his shoulder before they both melt into the crowd.

“He didn't look like the polite type at all,” Kou says mildy. Yamazaki grins.

“That's Makoto's influence. He doesn't really care what strangers think of him, but friends of Makoto get top priority,” Yamazaki chuckles a little and Haru's eyes bore into him.

“Why?” Haru asks. Yamazaki looks surprised that Haru spoke to him directly, and takes a second to answer.

“Even though they broke up ages ago, he's still pretty fond of Makoto,” he says dismissively. Haru bolts to his feet the same time Rin punches Yamazaki in the gut. Haru doesn't stick around to hear the aftermath, instead diving into the crowd to find Makoto.

He finds him towards the back of the room, surrounded by strangers, with Nagisa and Rei nearby. Haru slips next to Makoto as smoothly as he can and Makoto smiles at him when he spots him. Nagisa holes his way up to Haru's other side, and Rei sticks close to Nagisa, afraid of losing him in the crowd.

Tatsumi is holding a giggling Mariko up and laughing with her, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Haru feels a pang of envy shoot through his stomach. He doesn't want him touching her, especially when they look like old friends already. Makoto watches with a broad smile, so Haru doesn't do anything, feeling the envy curl and churn in his gut. _They had dated, they had_ dated. He wants to shake Makoto, or maybe himself, until it makes sense. Why had Makoto dated _this guy_?

Tatsumi turns around, and Mariko reaches her arms out towards them. Tatsumi smiles and walks over to them. He surprises Haru when he offers her up to Haru instead of Makoto.

“She must really like you!” he says with a smile. Haru's wide eyes look from Mariko back to Tatsumi as he slowly takes her. She chirps up at him and wiggles her way into his arms, tugging at the collar on his shirt. He pats her head and she blows bubbles at him.

“Man, I'm kind of jealous over them,” Tatsumi says to Makoto. Haru looks up and catches Makoto and Tatsumi smiling fondly at him and Mariko. Even now they were nearly touching, too comfortable in each others space. Haru tightens his grip on her and buries his nose in her hair.

“Haru's great with her,” Makoto says, and Haru feels his face flush.

“You always said he was amazing, but I didn't know it included baby whispering,” Tatsumi says with a laugh. If Haru wasn't blushing before, he was now.

“Haru-chan's always been amazing!” Nagisa chirps, tugging on one of Haru's arms.

“He was an excellent senpai,” Rei adds wistfully.

“Too bad he'll never surpass me as the favorite,” Rin sneers, joining them with Yamazaki on his heels. Tatsumi snorts.

“Leave it to Rin to compete over this too,” he says, shaking his head. Rin's smile grows, showing off his teeth. Mariko wiggles in Haru's arms.

“Rin-chan can't help it, it's hard wired into his lizard brain,” Nagisa says seriously. Yamazaki lets out a laugh.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Rin growls out at Nagisa. Nagisa grins.

“I believe what Nagisa is referring to, would be that-” Rin lifts a hand and cuts Rei off.

_“Don't,”_ Rin says. Rei adjusts his glasses and closes his mouth. Makoto's laugh escapes from behind a hand, and the peace is lost. Rin launches at Nagisa who nimbly dodges and sticks his tongue out as he runs.

Happy the focus is no longer on him, Haru steps closer to Makoto. Makoto looks down when Mariko grabs his sleeve, and he smiles at them both.

“Hey,” he says quietly. Haru can hear Rei calling after Nagisa.

“Hey,” Haru says back. He shrugs Mariko towards Makoto, who tries to climb him.

“Here,” Haru says, leaning in so she doesn't fall. She settles into Makoto's arms, and Makoto's gentle smile transfers to Haru. Somewhere behind him Yamazaki groans and grabs Rin by the arm. Ichiro-san appears with a grin and leans up to whisper into Makoto's ear.

“Ah, it's time huh?” Makoto says and Ichiro-san gives him an encouraging nod.

“Could you uh..” Makoto looks helplessly at Ichiro-san.

“They wouldn't hear me any better 'an you,” he says with a shrug. Tatsumi elbows Makoto before he can say anything else.

“You want to talk, right?” Makoto nods gratefully.

“I've got it,” Tatsumi says taking a step back. He glances around the space before bringing a few fingers to his mouth and taking a deep breath. He lets out a loud whistle shrill enough to get everyone's attention. Haru sees a few people cover their ears. Makoto winces a little and Haru waits for Mariko to start crying. She stares at Tatsumi in shock for a second before breaking out in peals of laughter. A few people join her.

“Sorry everyone, but I think Makoto would like to have a word or two!” Tatsumi calls to the crowd, and Haru feels the attention shift to Makoto at his side.

“Speech! Speech!” Rin cheers from somewhere in the crowd. Haru spots him towards the back, Nagisa captured in his arms. A few people chuckle at that and Makoto runs his free hand through the hair on the back of his neck.

“Well, I think you all know how good at speeches I am,” he says sheepishly. Haru hears more laughs, and it seems to encourage Makoto.

“But there are a few things I want to say. We're all here for Mariko's birthday, and I want to thank all of you for coming.” He smiles at Mariko before turning back to the crowd.

“It really, really means a lot to me that she has so many people who care for her. We're both lucky to have you all,” he says. Haru's impressed his voice is still strong.

“Damn right you are!” Ichiro-san yells from the back. Makoto laughs. Haru sees Takagawa-san make curt strides towards Ichiro-san and he hopes she has mercy.

“I am. I'm honored to have all of you as part of our little family,” Makoto says, and now his smile is so blinding Haru has to look away.

“We love you too Mako-chan!” Nagisa yells from underneath Rin's loose arms. Several people cheer and raise their glasses and Makoto flushes a little darker.

“Ah anyway, thank you all,” he looks down at Mariko. His face is really red now. Haru thinks he's probably reaching his public speaking limit. He shifts until her face is on the same level as hers and faces the crowd again.

“Happy Birthday,” he says to Mariko, who claps a hand on his cheek. He lets out a laugh like he'd been holding it in. The crowd collapses when everyone comes forward at once to wish her a happy birthday and congratulate him. Haru squeezes himself a little closer to Makoto so they don't get separated. There's so many people his head spins. It gets harder and harder to breathe. His eyes dart from face to face, but he doesn't know them and they all start to blend. He doesn't notice he's behind Makoto with a hand curled in the back of his shirt until Makoto turns and looks down at him.

“Hey, Haru-chan are you okay?” Haru doesn't see who Makoto hands Mariko off to before he's turning around and bodily blocking Haru from the crowd. Haru unclenches his hand from Makoto's shirt and tries to take a deep breath. When he doesn't respond, Makoto puts a hand on his back and leads him towards a chair. Haru sinks into it and Makoto sits in the one next to it.

“I'm fine,” he says before Makoto can ask again. Makoto looks at him, unconvinced.

“I'm fine _now_ ,” he amends. Makoto nods and scoots his chair a little closer.

“It's pretty overwhelming, I can't believe I said all that,” Makoto says giving Haru a little smile. Haru knocks their knees together.

“You did great,” he says, breathing easier. Makoto laughs.

“If you say so.” Haru hums.

“Thanks for sticking with me,” Makoto says and Haru looks down. He's saved from figuring out what to say when none other than Tatsumi appears in front of him with a glass of ice water. Tatsumi offers it to him with a smile and Haru tentatively takes it. Tatsumi drags a chair and sits in front of them, eyes still on Haru.

“You looked like you could use a drink,” he says gently. Haru eyes him and takes a sip that turns into a long drink. It was actually just what he needed.

“Thank you,” he grinds out slowly. He still doesn't like him. Tatsumi smiles, undaunted.

“You were right, he really is amazing.” Tatsumi says to Makoto. Haru glares.

“Whoa, easy! I just mean it's pretty clear you don't like crowds, but you stayed with Mako through that whole swarm, and that's pretty tough!” Tatsumi says easily. Haru's glare downgrades into a stare when Makoto's hand rests on his shoulder.

“It's okay Haru, he's not making fun of you,” Makoto says in what he probably thinks is a reassuring voice. Haru turns his stare on Makoto. Makoto takes his hand off him and looks hurt. Tatsumi leans into Makoto's space and fakes a whisper.

“He's kinda scary; I like him,” he says. Makoto laughs.

“I am not,” Haru says. He tries not to glare. He wants to take up Makoto's space as casually as Tatsumi does, but he keeps himself stiff in his seat.

“I'm glad you two are getting along,” Makoto says with a tone that indicates they could probably do better at it. Tatsumi looks apologetic and Haru feels a little vindicated. Someone calls Makoto's name and when they turn around, Ichiro-san is carrying out a large cake with Takagawa-san close behind with a miniature copy of it.

Makoto shoots them a look before getting up and joining back in. Tatsumi and Haru look at each other. Tatsumi smiles and Haru stares before draining the rest of his water. They both stand and follow Makoto.

Mariko is back in his arms as he thanks the Takagawas. He takes a seat in front of the little cake while Takagawa-san produces a lighter for the single little pink candle planted in the middle. Rin's already sitting next to him on one side, so Haru quickly takes the other. Makoto lights the candle and the room goes quiet again. Makoto takes a deep breath and starts to sing.

He doesn't get through the first word before Nagisa loudly joins in, and quickly the whole room seems to be singing. Haru smiles as he watches Mariko, totally engrossed in the song and the light from the candle. It must be so strange for her. The song dies out and Makoto leans forward with Mariko, miming blowing out the candle. Mariko grabs his hair and laughs. Makoto smiles unconcernedly and turns her towards the candle. The next laugh blows out the light and Mariko's eyes go wide as saucers. Nagisa snaps it all with his phone.

People cheer, and after a moment of rearranging Mariko is set down in a high chair to wreak her own kind of mayhem on her little cake as the larger one is sliced and passed out to the adults. Makoto has to leave to accept more good wishes and see people off who can't stay. Haru is relieved to see Kisumi duck out early, slipping Makoto an envelope before heading out.

He picks at his cake as the crowd dwindles. Makoto thanks every one for coming so many times his voice is going hoarse. Before long, almost everyone is gone and Makoto's back in his seat as the remainder urge him to open Mariko's presents. Mariko's got more cake and frosting in her hair than her stomach, and seems content to let Makoto take over.

Kou thrusts her gift bag at him first with a shy smile, and Makoto pulls out a tiny pair of pink shoes, and a baby photo album. Nagisa jumps in next, and Makoto laughs when the paper falls away to reveal a small plastic toy phone.

“She can eat her own phone now,” he says with a smile. Rei holds up his gift with a stiff bow and Rin ruffles his hair before telling him to relax. Makoto opens it to reveal a large pack of pastel socks and hats. Rei stutters his excuse about scientific evidence behind the rate of babies loosing socks and heat loss before Makoto's gentle smile quiets him.

“It's great Rei, thank you.” Rei relaxes and smiles.

“Of course,” he says, red creeping high on his cheeks. People from the fire station line up, and Makoto opens packages of clothes and toys and gift cards until the only ones left are all people Haru know. When the last of Makoto's work friends leave, Tatsumi nervously shifts his weight from foot to foot and gets Makoto's attention.

“I can't stay any later either,” he says regretfully. Haru fights the urge to push him out the door himself. Makoto's smile doesn't leave his face, but his eyes go soft and sad.

“I'm glad you could make it at all,” he says.

“Wouldn't miss it,” he says with a grin. He pulls an envelope from the inside of his jacket and puts it in Makoto's hands.

“I couldn't really think of anything, so this will have to do,” he says with an apologetic look. Haru eyes his wrapped gift in front of Makoto and feels smug. At least he brought a _real_ gift.

“You can open it later,” Tatsumi says quickly. Makoto nods and sets it aside.

“It was really good to see you, Makoto,” Tatsumi says quietly.

“I'm really happy you could meet everyone,” Makoto says easily, nodding towards Haru and Mariko. Tatsumi laughs and wipes a finger through the frosting on Mariko's face.

“Happy Birthday kiddo,” he says, sticking his finger in his mouth and making a face at her. She blows bubbles at him. He turns to Haru and Haru goes rigid.

“I'm glad I finally met you, Haruka.” Tatusmi sounds sincere and Haru swallows. When he holds a hand out to Haru, he reaches out and shakes it.

“I'll walk you out,” Makoto offers and Tatsumi nods before saying goodbye to everyone else. They head to the door and Haru almost gets up to follow them. Rin shoots him a look and shakes his head, so Haru stays put.

Haru watches them walk out, and watches the way they linger close together outside the door. He clenches his jaw and thinks about just looking away. It's none of his business. He's about to turn when Tatsumi steps in too close to Makoto, and Haru's breath catches in his throat when he leans in and kisses over Makoto's cheekbone. Makoto hugs him and they part, Tatsumi heading off into the dark. It only takes a second, but Haru feels like he's watching Tatsumi kiss him for a lifetime.

Makoto opens the door and Haru jerks to look anywhere else with such force that he knees the table and knocks his glass over. He hears Yamazaki snort. When Haru looks at him, his eyes are cold enough to shut him up without a word. Rin pinches him hard in the side, and hands Haru a napkin. Haru wipes up his spill as Makoto slides back into his seat, blissfully oblivious.

“Here, open Sousuke's next,” Rin says immediately, distracting him long enough for Haru to train his face back to neutral. It takes longer than usual, and when he looks back at Makoto his heart starts pounding wildly all over again. He doesn't pay much attention to the rest of the presents. He can't focus. He wants to take his napkin to Makoto's face and wipe it clean. He wants to run. He's lost in his thoughts when the group falls quiet. He looks up to see Makoto holding up his opened gift with something like awe on his face.

He holds up the orca shaped onsie for everyone to see, and Haru feels his face heating up. All at once, everyone starts laughing.

“That's perfect,” Kou says seriously.

“It's so cute!” Nagisa says eagerly.

“Was that why you've been acting so smug, Rin?” Yamazaki asks, looking a little impressed despite himself. Haru bites his lip to hide his smile. Rin looks a little confused, and opens his mouth before shutting it aimlessly.

“She can be just like her father,” Rei says, smiling himself.

“That's actually pretty thoughtful, Oniichan,” Kou says, leaning towards Rin. Makoto laughs when Rin stutters.

“What does _that_ mean?” He asks, wheeling on Kou. Kou laughs and pats his head.

“Nothing, nothing,” she says. She doesn't sound innocent at all. The conversation spirals from there, and no one notices when Makoto leans towards Haru and thanks him.

“It's kind of silly, but I love it. And the swim clothes too,” Makoto says, smiling just for Haru. Haru's pulse relaxes, and he finds himself returning the smile.

“We'll have to take her swimming sometime,” he says, and Haru feels like flying. _Swimming._

“Us too us too! It's been forever since we swam with Mako-chan and Haru-chan!” Nagisa yips, and Rei nods vigorously in agreement.

“I agree, it's been far too long,” he says.Before long Rin's invited himself and Yamazaki, and Haru doesn't even mind. Swimming with his old team, swimming with Mariko, swimming with _Makoto_. When they look to him for approval he's nodding before he can think about it. Nagisa jumps from his seat and throws his arms around Haru, and everyone talks at once.

Nagisa is chittering in his ear to him and everyone else, and Haru almost misses it when Makoto pulls his phone out from his pocket. He has his full attention when Makoto's face drains at the number flashing on the screen. Makoto looks at Mariko and hesitates, but puts the phone to his ear anyway.

“Satomi?” He says quietly into the phone, his tone grave. Haru watches him.

“Yeah, sure, give me a second,” he says, and Haru's the only one who hears it. Makoto catches him staring and flashes him a weak smile before ruffling Mariko's hair and heading outside. Rin watches him leave and takes Makoto's empty seat next to Haru.

“He get a call?” he asks as everyone else keeps the conversation going with out them.

“From Satomi?” Haru says, and Rin chokes on his drink. He looks over at Haru with wide eyes before looking back out the door at Makoto's back.

“Shit, Satomi called?” he asks, face going hard and concerned.

“Rin, who is Satomi?” Now Haru's worried. Rin looks back at him and Haru can see him chew his lip as he thinks it over.

“Sorry Haru. You have to ask Makoto that one,” he says, actually sounding sorry about it. They don't talk anymore and after patting Haru's arm, goes back to his seat. Haru chews on his thumb nail as he waits for Makoto to come back. He doesn't take his eyes off Makoto's back, and he notices when Makoto hangs up and just stares into the sky for a minute before coming back in.

Makoto almost slips back into his seat unnoticed, but Haru can't keep the concern off his face. Makoto pulls Mariko into his lap and drapes a towel over her head to try and scrub some of the frosting off. When he looks at Haru, his face falters a little and Haru's heart clenches.

“Makoto,” he says, gently as he can. Makoto waits, idly rubbing Mariko's head. Haru takes a deep breath.

“Who is Satomi?” he says quietly, but the whole table seems to hear him and goes silent. There's a flash of pain across Makoto's face and Haru feels like he's been hit with it.

“Leave it alone, Nanase,” comes Yamazaki's deep voice, unsaid threats dripping from it. Haru doesn't look away from Makoto. No one speaks. The sound of Yamazaki's chair scraping the ground as he gets to his feet is painfully loud in the new silence.

“Sit down Sousuke,” Makoto says quietly. He sounds tired. Yamazaki stays standing, but doesn't move. Makoto looks at him and smiles weakly.

“Thank you, but I want them to know. It's not like I've been trying to hide it or anything anyway.” Makoto hugs Mariko closer and Yamazaki reluctantly returns to his seat. Haru feels a vague sense of déjà vu, remembering years ago when he had been the one to defend Makoto from talking about something painful. Makoto had said nearly the same thing to him.

Makoto takes a minute to look around the table, meeting everyone's gaze before finally turning to Haru. He smiles at him.

“It's okay Haru,” he says. Haru's eyes blink away from him before fluttering back. Makoto watches Mariko for a moment before he begins.

“Rin and Sousuke know this already, but I'm sure the rest of you have been wondering about her, right? It's not like babies just appear before people anyway. There's always a story.”

He's got everyone's attention now, Kou and Nagisa lean forward in their seats, and Rei doesn't notice his glasses have slipped down his nose. Yamazaki crosses his arms over his chest and Rin frowns.

“Satomi is Mariko's mother. She, uh,” Makoto seems at a loss and Haru wishes he could stop time for him.

“She and I were dating. She's beautiful, and smart, and she's always so independent... I really fell for her, but well,” Makoto pauses and when he looks up, his smile is so sad Haru feels like crawling into himself.

“I wasn't enough, I guess,” he says, like its funny.

_“Bullshit,”_ Yamazaki growls.

“Anyway, obviously we broke up. She left right around when I moved into my house, and I didn't see her at all. The next time I did is the day I met Mariko.” Makoto smiles fondly at that, and wipes a little more chocolate off her face.

“I took her home that night, and that's the end of it,” Makoto says. Rin snorts.

“You make it sound so much nicer than her just fucking showing up months later to dump your child on you and leave you both. Again.” Rin says voice hard.

“Rin,” Makoto says, giving him a look. Rin's eyes don't back down.

“She really just left you?” Kou says softly, sympathy coloring her voice. Makoto looks at her and nods once.

“How could she?” Kou says, disbelief and sadness fighting over her face.

“That's awful, Mako-chan,” Nagisa says, looking close to tears himself. Rei rubs his back comfortingly.

“You've done a remarkable job, Makoto,” he says reverently. Makoto swallows hard. Haru scoots his chair closer to Makoto, and slowly reaches a hand out around his waist. He gives Makoto a one armed hug and leans his head on his shoulder, and Makoto chokes up. In moments, Makoto and Haru are the middle of a group hug as everyone surrounds them. Haru doesn't panic this time, and keeps his arm tight around Makoto until everyone else lets go too.

 

Eventually everyone has to let go, and as they disengage and untangle themselves Makoto doesn't miss that Haru is the last to reluctantly let go of him. Honestly, Makoto kind of wishes he could scoop Haru up and cry on his shoulder for a while, but this wasn't the place. He catches Kou dabbing at tears in the corners of her eyes with a napkin and shoots her a reassuring smile. He passes Mariko to her, and she busies herself trying to clean the rest of the cake off her face.

He gets everyone on board with helping the Takagawas clean up, and soon he's running stacks of dishes to the kitchen while Haru packs up leftovers with Takagawa-san. Sousuke helps Ichiro-san pull down streamers, and Nagisa and Rei work on putting the tables back in order. When they're done, the tables aren't in their usual places, but it somehow makes the space seem bigger. Takagawa-san gives Nagisa a hard look before ruffling his hair and approving. Nagisa beams.

Somewhere in the middle of cleanup, Rin got a hold of Makoto's keys and loaded the gifts while everyone else was busy, so when Haru appears next to him with a bag of leftovers and Mariko's baby bag, there's little left to do than say their goodbyes. Haru stands by him as he thanks everyone at the door, and gets particularly long hugs from Kou and Rei and Nagisa. He thanks the Takagawas, who politely shoo them out of the restaurant before locking up behind them.

He stands out in the cool evening air, enjoying the breeze after the heat of the restaurant. It's just him and Haru and Mariko now. He looks down at Haru, and wonders what he's thinking about. His face is quiet, but still a little troubled. Haru seems to sense him looking, and looks up at Makoto, curious. Makoto smiles and shakes his head.

“Ready to go?” he says. Haru blinks at him.

“Sure,” he says. Makoto tucks Mariko back into her car seat before sliding into the driver seat. Haru's already climbed in, and stares out the window listlessly. Makoto slides his key in the ignition, and the old truck rumbles to life.

He pulls into the street, and heads home. Traffic is light at best at this time of night, and he falls into the rhythm of driving easily. He almost jumps when Haru's thin fingers touch his arm. Makoto looks down to where he'd touched and see's his skin raise like ghost finger prints. _Oh._

“It's okay, Haru,” he says smiling at him. Haru doesn't buy it. He unclicks his seat belt and slides into the middle seat, adjusting the scarcely used middle seat belt before clicking it shut.

“Haru?” Makoto asks, feeling the heat from Haru's thigh transfer to his own.

“Stop doing that all the time,” Haru says frowning. He yawns and Makoto waits for him to close his mouth before replying.

“Doing what?” he asks.

“Trying to make sure everyone else is okay when you're the one hurting,” Haru says quietly, but it hits Makoto in his chest. He's not sure what to say to that, so he turns back to the road.

“It's okay,” Haru says. Makoto swallows, throat tight.

“It's okay Makoto,” Haru repeats. He leans his weight against Makoto's side, and when Makoto looks back at him Haru holds his eyes for a second before resting his head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says. Haru lets out a long breath. He's asleep by the time Makoto pulls into his driveway. When Makoto slides the gear into park, Haru stirs and leans up on his own. He blinks at Makoto, and Makoto wants to brush his ruffled hair back into place.

“Do you want to spend the night again?” he asks instead. Haru blinks again before his eyes widen a fraction, and he looks away.

“Sure,” he says noncommittally, stretching his shoulders. Makoto smiles. Haru peeks back and catches it. He frowns.

“What?” he says. Makoto smiles harder.

“I'm glad you're here with me,” he says sincerely. Haru's face goes a shade of pink Makoto doesn't think he could ever get tired of.

“Where else would I be,” Haru grumbles. Makoto laughs and opens his door. When he gets in the back to get Mariko, he catches a small smile on Haru's face as he gets out too. They walk inside side by side, and Makoto really feels like he's coming home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, you guys I'm so sorry this update took so long, it's been killing me u_u I haven't forgotten or given up or abandoned it or anything like that, I just lost a big chunk of it and have been really busy with work, so, sorry!  
> also there's more art! [go check it out!](http://supermisu.tumblr.com/post/103676574895/haru-as-close-to-jammers-as-i-can-get-nanase)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people compare the feeling of euphoria that weaves itself around Haru in the moment his fingertips meet the water to flying, but that never meant anything to Haru.

Haru stares down at his unmade bed and bites his lip. He's only got seven pairs of jammers at the moment, and they lay side by side across the small mattress. He absently rubs a hand over his chin as he considers each pair. Did he have time to go to the mall and just buy a new pair? A quick glance at his phone tells him that, no, he did not have the time at all. In fact, it's only a few minutes before Makoto would be calling him from outside, and Haru still hasn't picked one.

He's aware there's a dull groan escaping him when he looks them over again, but he does nothing to stop it. It'd been so long since he went swimming properly, and with everyone no less. Maybe the third one? He reaches for it before stopping short. The fifth one was a little tighter in his thighs, maybe that would be better. Then again, the first one was a little shorter than the others, and he'd get more water contact that way. But the purple striping was faded on it.

Haru lets a real groan escape him, and covers his eyes with a hand to blindly grab one off his bed. He doesn't dare look down at the others, lest the sense of betrayal at leaving them behind gnaws at him to reconsider. He slips out of his underwear and slides the cool material of his jammers up over his hips, and revels in the feeling of them constricting around him. He hasn't even been wearing them under his clothes, having switched to boxer briefs years ago. The promise of soon being in the water that they bring puts an excitement in him he hasn't let himself feel in a long time.

He's pulling his pants back on when his phone rings, and he grabs it and his bag before heading out the door. He locks his door behind him and nearly runs down the stairs to Makoto's waiting truck, feeling unusually energetic. Makoto's smile is wide and comforting, and Haru thinks he looks as excited as Haru feels as he greets Haru through the open window. Haru climbs in and buckles his seat belt in record time.

“Excited to go swim, Haru?” Makoto asks with a laugh before shifting into reverse and backing out of his parking spot. Haru just looks over at him, knowing his eyes will tell him better than his words could.

“Me too,” Makoto says with a grin. He plays with the radio until music starts flowing around them, and they ride the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Haru watches the ocean out of his window on the part of the highway that parallels it, and he catches Makoto smiling to himself in the side mirror.

By the time they pull up to a concrete monolith of a building, Haru all but jumps out of the truck. Mariko chirping at him is the only thing that keeps him from dashing straight inside, and he shifts impatiently as Makoto unstraps her from the car seat and grabs his bags. When Makoto looks at him, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles.

“Let's go?” He says mildly, as if Haru was the one lagging. He starts walking and Haru has to jog a couple of steps to catch up. Makoto gets to the door first, and holds it open for Haru. Haru shoots him a wilting look that quickly fades when the wave of chlorine hits his nostrils. He walks inside automatically, and his eyes dart around looking for any thing that would tell him the quickest way to the pool.

The man at the reception desk gives him a look but brightens up when Makoto steps in behind him. Mariko does a fantastic job distracting him, and when the receptionist picks her up Makoto bends down to speak in Haru's ear.

“You can't wait anymore can you?” Haru shoots him a look, amazed Makoto would _tease_ in a situation like this.

 _“Makoto,”_ he says, edge of a please in his voice. Makoto's smile widens and he gives in.

“Alright alright, I'll check us in and do all that, I need to talk to the manager anyway. You don't have to wait for me,” he says with a smile and points him in the right way to the locker rooms. Haru almost doesn't even hear the last of it, he's already on his way and slipping his bag off his shoulder.

After Mariko's birthday, Makoto had volunteered to bring them all to the pool he worked at since he would be starting classes up in the next few weeks anyway. Haru hadn't been too keen on the idea of trying to swim in a pool full of children, but his eyes had lit up when Makoto mentioned that since he had a key, they could go later at night and have the pool to themselves.

Haru finds the locker room and shoves his bag in the closest locker. He pulls both his shirt and the vest over it over his head in one swift motion and slips out of his pants and shoes just as hastily. He crams his clothes in with his bag and swipes at the door, not really caring if it actually shuts over his stuff. His bare feet make a slapping sound over the cool tiles he had no idea he had missed.

To say that Makoto's schedule would be hectic for the next few months would be a gross understatement. Makoto had explained that during the winter he switched to 24 hour shifts at the station, and taught classes three days a week in the evenings, sometimes after getting off a shift from the fire department that morning. Haru had stared at him, trying to wrap his head around how he had managed all that and balancing a newborn on top of it last year, and Makoto had just smiled and shrugged.

Haru plays with the faucet for just a second before giving up and just standing under the chilly water. It wouldn't matter to him in a minute when he was in the pool. He stays under the shower just long enough to soak his hair, and he's heading towards the door, playing with the goggles around his neck. He runs back a moment later to turn the shower off and heads back for real. He pushes the door open and he's overwhelmed with the unmistakable atmosphere of the pool.

True to his word, Makoto's pool was empty. The water was clear and calm, half of the poor divided into Olympic-sized lanes, the other half clearly for recreation. The water glistened, appearing a beautiful aquamarine from the paint on the floor of the pool and the lighting underneath. Haru inhales deeply and savors the scent before his legs are moving on their own, propelling him towards the still surface. He dives, perfect form immortalized in his body and heart.

Some people compare the feeling of euphoria that weaves itself around Haru in the moment his fingertips meet the water to flying, but that never meant anything to Haru. He'd flown before, technically. Crammed into a seat between strangers, the space tight and the air stale. He hadn't cared for it, and always felt a sense of relief when his feet were back on solid ground.

To Haru, this was what he had to measure all other joys to. The rest of his body follows his hands, and he's _swimming_. The water was his home, and his arms and legs moving with and against it was his welcoming embrace. He stays under as long as he can before finally surfacing with a gasp. He treads the water easily, and after a second pushes himself forward and under again, swimming in earnest down the lanes now. When he surfaces again he transitions easily into his favorite stroke, and pushes himself forward.

His mind is calm, and he embraces the dull ache that kindles in his calves and shoulders. It's as familiar as the water around him, and he slips back under until his lungs burn. Once he's nice and warm, he flips on his back and just floats, enjoying the quiet settling into his bones. He drifts, and loses track of time. He's so relaxed he feels like he could almost fall asleep in the water's embrace. He smiles at the thought.

A gasp and a giggle snap him out of it, and in a flash he's rolled over and back under the water, and swims to the shallow end where Makoto sits with his feet hanging in the water. When he pokes his head out, Mariko cheers and giggles again at him from her perch in Makoto's lap. Haru smiles under the water at her.

“He's amazing, huh Macchan?” Makoto says to her, and Haru sinks a little deeper when Mariko babbles her agreement. She reaches out her hands towards him and Haru gets an idea. He moves until he's just out of reach, and sinks his nose into the water and blows bubbles. Her eyes shoot wide and she squeals, wiggling wildly against Makoto's arms. Makoto laughs along with her and picks her up.

“Let's get you some floaties before you try that one,” he says, carrying her towards a storage rack full of foam kick boards and noodles that Haru had completely overlooked before. Haru follows them on his side of the pool, shamelessly watching the way the muscles in Makoto's back move and flex above his orange board shorts when he bends down to outfit Mariko with the smallest life jacket Haru's ever seen.

Makoto wades in and sets Mariko in the water as gently as he can through her flailing limbs. Haru's glad he's not the one trying it, he's not sure how she hasn't just outright slipped his grasp yet. As soon as she's in the water she starts laughing and splashing, and Haru feels a warmth spread in his chest at the sight.

“Looks like she loves the water almost as much as you,” Makoto says with a laugh, one hand still on the back of her life jacket. Haru moves a little closer, and Mariko stops splashing to watch him, expectant look on her face. He blows more bubbles in the water and she cheers.

“Jeez you two,” Makoto says and Haru looks up at him, face still half in the water. Makoto's smile is soft and fond, and Haru has to look away. He wonders if he could smile like that. Mariko splashes him while he's looking away, and Makoto barks out a laugh when Haru looks at her wildly.

“Sorry, Haru,” he says, trying and failing to cover up his laughter. Haru puts his feet on the floor of the pool and stands.

“You're not sorry,” he says with a huff, moving until he's standing right over Mariko. Mariko giggles up at him, and tries to splash him again.

“Haru?” Makoto asks when Haru stands there. He probably shouldn't splash her back, but he really wants to. Instead he leans over her and lets the water drip from his hair on to her. A fat drop lands between her eyes and they shoot wide and her voice dies in her throat. A second drop soon follows, and Haru wonders if she's about to start crying when she stays still and quiet. Haru watches as another drop forms on the tips of his hair, but before it can fall, Mariko's hands stretch up and grab onto it, tugging him back into the water with a painful twist.

Haru lets himself flop back into the water and Mariko looses her grip at some point in the splash. He circles around them underwater and surfaces a safe distance away, Mariko and Makoto's laughs filling his ears as soon as they hit the air.

“Macchan! That wasn't very nice!” Makoto tells her between laughs. Haru puts his hands together in front of him and squeezes, shooting Makoto with a little stream. Makoto sputters as Mariko giggles at him. When he looks at Haru, Haru feels his heart skip for the hundredth time since he wedged himself back in Makoto's life. Makoto's expression is unreadable for a fraction of a second before he's smiling and laughing, pushing his wet hair back from his face with a hand.

Haru doesn't hide in the water when he smiles back at Makoto this time. He doesn't think his smiles could ever compete with Makoto's, but he can't bring himself to care. Mariko keeps laughing and splashing, but Makoto holds Haru's gaze. Haru can hear his heartbeat rushing in his ears.

“It's good be be back in the water with you, Haru,” Makoto says. He's smile makes him look younger, and it layers in Haru's mind over countless smiles from their childhood and school years. He should say something, but how does he say everything that's rushing and muddling around inside of him?

“Yeah,” he says instead.

“I'm glad she likes it too,” he says, gesturing to Mariko. She's still flailing around and seemingly having a ball, Makoto's strong hand on her back to keep her afloat. Makoto nods sagely.

“Good thing, I'd hate to see you two break up if she didn't like the water enough,” he says seriously. Haru closes his mouth with a snap.

“I wouldn't-” he starts. Makoto forces his mouth in a frown but when his eyes flash to Haru, they're bright and mischievous.

“I seem to remember a time when we were _desperate_ for a fourth club member...” Makoto trails off when Haru splashes him again. Mariko cheers.

“That was _years_ ago,” he says, grumbling as he turns around to dive back under. A wave crashes over his back before he can. When he turns around, Makoto's face is carefully constructed innocence. Haru looks at him in disbelief. Mariko's peals of laughter fill the space around them, narrowing the vastness of the pool to just the three of them. Makoto joins her. Haru thinks for a moment that he could spend every day in their comfortable laughter, and something seizes in his chest.

Haru dives under and swims to the far end before he can say anything he'd regret. He picks a lane and starts lazy laps, pointedly ignoring the brief catches of Makoto's voice and Mariko's laughter whenever his head pops above water for breath. He only stops when he hears unfamiliar music. He comes to a stop to listen, and watches as Makoto hauls Mariko up and pads over to a bench where Makoto's bag waits for him. When Makoto picks up and answers his phone Haru realizes it's the first time he's ever heard it ring. He swims over to the edge by him and makes a face at Mariko when she tries to wiggle out of Makoto's arms and get back in the water.

“That was Nagisa, I'm going to go let them in,” Makoto tells him once he's hung up. Haru nods and holds out his hands. Makoto hesitates for only a split second before kneeling down to pass Mariko over, but Haru sees it anyway.

“I won't let go of her,” Haru says. Makoto blinks at him, surprised that Haru had understood. He smiles a little and runs his hand through Mariko's hair.

“Thanks,” Makoto says. It isn't until Makoto's wet footsteps fade away through the doors that Haru feels like he's just missed an opportunity. He looks down at Mariko, who is far too busy slapping her hands in the surface of the water to notice.

“How does he do that?” he asks her absently. She looks up at his voice and coos. Haru bounces her in the water a little, wading around the shallow end. He's not sure how long it is before he hears feet slapping against the tile. He looks up to a blond whirlwind as Nagisa busts through the doors, full tilt towards the pool.

“Don't run you idiot!” Rin's voice come from somewhere behind him.

“Never!” Nagisa cheers as he cannonballs into the deep end. Mariko watches in amazement and tugs on Haru.

“Not a chance,” he tells her quietly. Nagisa surfaces with a whoop and he swims over to Haru.

“Haru-chan! Macchan! Sorry I'm late, Rei-chan got lost!” Nagisa says happily, bright smile covering his face.

“I most certainly did not! I took all precautions, and researched the quickest route-”

“It's okay Rei-chan, everyone gets lost sometimes,” Nagisa cuts him off. Rei sputters as Rin pats him on the back.

“We were a little late too, it worked out,” Rin says.

“I was not lost! There was an accident, how was I supposed to calculate for that?” Rei manages, his face heating up. Nagisa nudges up close to Haru and Mariko, poking her in the side and making her giggle.

“Rei-chan, did you see Macchan's swimsuit? Isn't it cute?” He asks sweetly. Rei looks down at them and his face cools off into a smile. He slips into the pool much more gracefully than his counterpart, and wades up to them.

“Certainly, Mariko is very cute,” he says as a greeting to her. She beams and reaches a hand out to him. He takes it in one of his tentatively, and she chirps at him. Haru hears Rin splash into the pool and join them.

“Seriously, how did I not think of that,” he grumbles, leaning down to plant his face in her hair. Haru keeps her wrapped in his arms.

“It's like a blessing, getting a swimsuit from our own water god,” Nagisa says reverently. Rin flicks his ear.

“If anyone is the water god it's clearly me,” he scowls. Nagisa rubs his ear and pouts.

“It's probably a bad idea to call either of you a water god,” Makoto's voice comes from the side. He and Yamazaki tower over them, and they all look up like they've been caught red-handed. Makoto smiles and Yamazaki crosses his arms over his chest. Haru looks away and Nagisa starts laughing.

“I was just kidding Mako-chan,” he says.

“It's bad luck to compare yourselves to gods,” Yamazaki says with a frown.

“Ee, scary! Rei-chan let's swim away!” Nagisa stage whispers before diving away. Rei's shoulders slump but he dives under and after him anyway. Haru watches them swim away until Rin's hand on his back draws him out of it.

“Sup, Haru?” Rin says.

“Hey,” he says absently, Mariko worming her way up his chest. Makoto and Yamazaki move off to a bench on the side, and Makoto shoots him a smile as they sit down together. Haru watches them, and Rin catches him.

“The adults want to stretch and junk, don't worry.” Haru looks at Rin and quirks an eyebrow. _Worry?_

“He'll be back in the water soon enough,” Rin says with a knowing smile, and Haru looks back at Makoto, ignoring him. Makoto sits on the bench sideways in front of Yamazaki, too close for Haru's liking. When Makoto leans forward and Yamazaki's hands wrap around his shoulders, Haru nearly shoots out of the pool.

“Christ, Haru!” Rin yelps when Haru's jerk nearly runs them into each other.

“Would you chill?” Haru glares at him.

“That's kind of Sousuke's _job,_ you know” Rin says annoyed.

 _“Job?”_ Haru deadpans. Out of the corner of his eyes he catches Makoto leaning forward more, and Yamazaki's hands dip beyond Haru's sight.

“Yeah? He's a sports physiotherapist, didn't anyone ever tell you?” Rin says, stretching his own shoulders. Haru blinks at him.

“Yeah okay, guess not. You two still don't get along great, do you? I never got that,” Rin trails off as he switches arms. Haru only shakes his head and wishes he could make out whatever Makoto says that makes Yamazaki laugh and let him up.

“He's worked hard,” Rin says, and Haru forces himself to tear his eyes away from Makoto when he hears Rin's tone.

“He's probably going to work for a national team,” Rin says, and Haru can hear the pride in his voice. He looks back over at Yamazaki. Rin puts his arm around Haru's shoulders and plays with Mariko's hair.

“And, he gives the _best_ massages,” Rin says, lowering his voice in Haru's ear. Haru flushes and kicks Rin under the water.

“Get off,” he says. Rin laughs and squeezes them closer.

“So? Have you told him yet?” Rin asks behind a hand, nudging Haru in the ribs towards Makoto. Haru's suddenly very interested in Mariko's life jacket, and plays with the straps to make sure it's on well enough.

“Haru...” Rin's voice carries the vowels. Haru doesn't look at him.

“Haru, I love Makoto like a brother but he's a big dumb retriever. If you don't tell him nothing is going to change.” Haru glares at him. He's never had a dog, but he's confident Makoto is smarter than some flea-ridled _animal_.

“It's fine,” he says curtly. Rin lets out a sigh.

“You're happy with it like this?” He asks. Makoto and Yamazaki are over by the deep end now, and Nagisa and Rei are saying something to them from the water.

“Yes,” he says, hugging Mariko to his chest. Quick as a whip, Nagisa shoots a hand out and grabs Yamazaki's ankle. A combination of him reaching out to Makoto, and Makoto reaching out to steady him sends both of them splashing into the water. Haru holds his breath until Makoto's head surfaces and his voice carries across the water.

“Are you really?” Rin says quietly. Haru's face twitches in agitation. No, he really, really wasn't. It keeps him on pins and needles not knowing where he was with Makoto, and it makes his stomach churn whenever he thinks about Makoto with someone else. He hates that he can't get a handle on it, but at the same time he wants to throw himself into it. Rin waits and Haru chews the inside of his cheek.

“I don't want to mess it up again, you don't-” Haru stops himself short, wide eyes snapping to Rin's face. Rin's expression is hard and pained, and Haru kicks himself. Rin looks down and gently pets Mariko's hair out of her face.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Rin says seriously. He doesn't take his arm off Haru.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that,” Haru says quietly. He feels more than sees when Rin shrugs.

“I know. Besides it's not like you can fuck it up so bad he flies off to another country and doesn't talk to you for four years, right?” Rin grins at him, and Haru falls back into a glare. Rin laughs and lets go of him, and Haru catches sight of a tattoo across Rin's upper arm. He reaches out and touches it, and Rin jumps.

“What?” Rin asks, voice a little high. Haru traces the outline of the shark on Rin's clammy skin. It was shark that looked like it was diving back into the water after breaching, with a bright disk illuminating it from behind. Unlike Makoto's tattoos, Rin's was in full color. Haru tilts his head at him and Mariko chirps helpfully.

“You too?” He asks. Rin looks down at his skin and glances over towards Makoto and the others.

“I guess you've already seen Makoto's, huh? The orca?” Haru nods.

“Got mine the same day,” Rin says, flashing teeth when he smiles. Haru thinks it suits him.

“Makoto's is bigger,” Haru says. Rin's smile drops right off his face.

“You little shit,” Rin says, unbelieving. Haru bites his lip to keep his face straight.

“Sensitive?”

“You little _shit!_ ” Rin's coming at him now and Haru takes a quick step back, bringing Mariko up to Rin's face when he gets close. Rin glares over the top of her head at him.

“This isn't over,” he says, taking Mariko from him. With a gasp and a splash, Nagisa surfaces nearby.

“Rin-chan, no fair! I want to swim with Macchan too!” Nagisa whines, sticking out his lower lip.

“Hah? I just got her, yell at Haru if you want to complain,” he says, holding Mariko up out of Nagisa's reach.

“What? Who would yell at Haru-chan?” Nagisa says, mock horror. Haru shoots Rin a look. Nagisa doesn't catch it and flips his attention on Haru.

“Has someone been yelling at you Haru-chan? Do you need me to get an adult, or Mako-chan?” He asks, voice actually a little concerned. Haru scoffs.

“I _am_ an adult,” he says patiently. Rin laughs out loud and Mariko joins him. Nagisa grins.

“Whatever you say Haru-chan,” he says.

“I'm older than you,” he huffs.

“Technically, sure.” Nagisa smiles brightly. Haru doesn't trust it. Nagisa jumps on Rin before he can ask what _that_ means.

“Come on, I want a turn with Macchan!” Nagisa tugs on Rin's arms, practically hanging off of him. Rin shoots Haru a look that clearly says _'help'_ , and Haru ignores it with a shrug.

“Augh, fine!” Nagisa grins triumphantly and lets go, slipping back into the water. Rin gives Mariko a little squeeze before reluctantly passing her over to Nagisa.

“Be careful,” he says, but Nagisa is already yelling back to the other side of the pool, Mariko bouncing in his arms as he moves over as quickly as he can. Once she's safely back within Makoto's reach they both relax. Haru and Rin watch them quietly for a second before Rin breaks it.

“He's never expected anything from you, you know. You should just tell him.” Haru frowns. He thinks Rin probably means it to sound reassuring, but Haru wants Makoto to expect something from him. It irritates him that he doesn't know what.

“It's not that simple. He's changed,” Haru says. Rin snorts.

“No shit, Haru. We've all changed,” Rin says with a shrug. Haru gives him an annoyed look before staring back down at the water between them.

“You haven't,” he says, accusingly.

“I can't believe you can say that and look straight at my thighs, you heartless _bastard_ ,” Rin snarls. Haru's neck feels like it could break with the force he snaps it up with. Rin's grinning with all of his teeth. Haru gapes, before splashing him and diving under. He swims towards the lanes, and after a moment he can feel Rin pursuing him. Haru starts swimming seriously when Rin overtakes him.

They break the surface at the same time, and just like that, they're back in high school. Rin takes the lead, but Haru doesn't give him any space and chases after him with all he's got. Rin makes the turn first, and Haru catches sight of his manic smile when they cross. Haru feels a surge of energy, and he kicks the wall with a force he hasn't had in years. Rin wins the first round easily, but he doesn't take time to celebrate. They get Makoto to call it, and swim race after race.

They only stop when Makoto refuses to call another match. Haru isn't disappointed. He's satisfied. He's so exhausted he's nearly having trouble treading water, but it feels so good he doesn't care. When Makoto leans down and offers his hand to help Haru out, he wonders if he's already passed out and dreaming. Haru grabs it in a daze, and lets Makoto pull him out of the water.

His legs are unsteady underneath him, and when he tries to put his weight on them he nearly collapses. Makoto catches him easily, and Haru tries not to fixate on how easy Makoto holds him up. Makoto smiles at him, like carrying Haru was no greater hindrance than carrying Mariko.

“Good job, but you might have overdone it a little,” he says. Haru snorts. Makoto leans him down gently on one of the benches, and Haru lets his arm slip from his shoulders. Makoto looks at him with concern and Haru waves him off.

“I'm fine,” he says. Makoto pinches his lips together.

“I'd like to see you walk back to the lockers,” Makoto says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Put me back in the water,” he says. Makoto laughs. His eyes flit over towards the others, and Haru thinks they hover a moment longer on Yamazaki when he speaks again.

“Don't strain yourself so much, rest for now.” Haru nods and looks away. It seems to satisfy Makoto, because a moment later he squeezes Haru's shoulder before heading back to the pool. With a little difficulty, Haru draws his knees up and rests his chin on them and watches everyone swim. Nagisa seems happy to splash and play with Mariko, and Haru's relieved to see Nagisa keeping a close eye on her. Haru squints when something metallic flashes, and when Nagisa bounces with Mariko again he sees the flash of silver on Nagisa's stomach. A vague memory of Nagisa telling him about getting a piercing surfaces in the back of Haru's mind, and he smiles to himself.

Rin gets the idea for an all out butterfly race, and after a bout of compromising, Rin, Rei and Yamazaki all pull themselves out and go to starting blocks. Haru lets his head tilt to one side while he watches. He hasn't seen any of them do butterfly in a while. Makoto calls out to start, and the three of them dive in unison. Haru's sitting at the far end, so he has a good view of them surging towards him.

Rei gets to the turn first, followed quickly by Rin and Yamazaki. When they surface again, Haru snaps his head back up at the sight of Yamazaki's back. A huge whale shark covers his entire shoulder, tail dipping down all the way to the small of his back. The bobbing motion of the butterfly stroke makes it look like the shark was swimming with him, and Haru wonders if that was intentional.

Rin slaps the wall first, and hollers when Yamazaki and Rei finish after him. Rei gives him a high five and Yamazaki halfheartedly shoves him underwater. Haru glances over towards Makoto, and catches him staring. Makoto smiles and looks away the same time Haru does.

It seems even Rin has a limit, and Haru's not left alone for long. When Rin pulls himself out and flops down next to him, everyone else decides to call it a night as well. Makoto divests Mariko of her jacket while she fights to stay awake. Haru understands how she feels. When Makoto heads in their direction, Rin knocks their shoulders together and shoots up, patting Makoto's arm when he walks by.

“Ready to go, Haru-chan?” Makoto asks, extending one callused hand out like always. The familiarity of it all makes him warm.

“Enough with the -chan already,” he says. He takes Makoto's hand and lets him pull him up anyway. Makoto smiles and doesn't comment. Haru's legs burn when he moves them, but they don't falter. He drops Makoto's hand as soon as he's sure he can walk. Makoto stays close to him anyway.

The sound of showers running and Nagisa singing fill the locker rooms when Makoto pushes the door open for him. Haru frowns when reaches his locker and half of his clothes are hanging out. He shoves them in and digs in his bag, pulling out a little bag with his shampoo and body wash. Absently he pats around for a towel. When he doesn't find one he stares into his bag, willing it to appear.

A towel does appear, in the corner of his vision. He turns and see's Makoto standing behind him, offering him a nice fluffy towel. Haru stares at him. Makoto shrugs and drapes the towel over Haru's head when he makes no move to take it.

“You forgot yours, right? You always forget something the first time you go swimming in a while.” Makoto says casually. Haru pulls it over his face and looks at him. Makoto catches the look and laughs.

“What? Go on and shower if you want, I brought towels for me and Mariko too,” he says, pulling another one out of his locker and showing Haru. He drapes it over Mariko and rubs her hair.

“You can shower first,” Haru offers. Makoto wraps Mariko tight in her towel and runs his own through his hair.

“Thanks, but I was just going to dry off and shower at home,” Makoto says, letting his towel hang around his shoulders. He smiles at Haru and turns back to his locker. Haru gets his first close look at the base of Makoto's neck and confirms that yes, there was a small tattoo there too. The character for Tachibana was done in beautiful black print, small enough that he hadn't been able to make it out before. He's contemplating the tattoo while Makoto towels off his chest, and it isn't until Makoto's thumbs dig under the waistband of his board shorts that Haru realizes he's been staring. And that Makoto was probably _not_ wearing anything underneath those shorts.

“Thanks. For the towel,” Haru sputters and jerks towards the showers. By some miracle, his supplies remain in his hands, and he's not going to tempt fate by looking back. He picks a shower stall on the end, and all but slams the door. He yanks on the water, and doesn't bother trying to make it warm. The cold would probably do him some good.

He doesn't come out until he hears the others leave the showers, and then he takes a moment to make sure his- _Makoto's_ towel was secure around his hips before he heads back to the lockers. To his immense relief, the locker room was empty except for Rei and Nagisa. Neither of them notice him come in, and he slips over to his locker quietly.

He digs through his bag twice before giving up. It seems like a towel wasn't the only thing he forgot. With a sigh he pulls his pants up over his bare skin, struggling a little with the dampness. Pants safely on, he lets the towel fall on the bench and finishes getting dressed. He doesn't know when he got so self-conscious about these things, and he feels like Rin would probably laugh at him if he knew.

He rinses his jammers off in the sink, and wrings the extra water out. He brought a plastic bag to carry them home in, and he tries not to ball them up too tightly when he shoves it and the rest of his stuff in his bag. He crams Makoto's towel in on top. When he pads back out to the lobby everyone is waiting for him. Makoto looks up from his spot on the counter with Mariko and smiles at him, and he's pretty sure he hears a 'finally' from Rin.

“Everyone ready?” Makoto asks, slipping off the counter. Mariko yawns in his arms.

“Can we come back?” Nagisa asks. Makoto smiles.

“Of course we can. As long as we clean and lock up after ourselves it shouldn't be a problem,” Makoto says. Nagisa latches onto him before he finishes.

“I miss swimming with everyone,” Nagisa says into Makoto's shirt. They've all gotten to their feet by now, and they share a smile over Nagisa's head. Yamazaki leans an arm on Rin's shoulder and tries to look detached. Makoto wraps his free hand around Nagisa and Rin messes up his damp hair.

“We'll be sure to come again,” Rei says gently. Nagisa lets go of Makoto and grabs onto Rei instead.

“Promise?” He asks, and sweeps over the group to make eye contact with everyone, falling on Haru last. Haru steps forward.

“Promise,” he says. Nagisa's eyes go wide for a second before his smile takes over his face. Makoto smiles broadly at all of them before shouldering his bags.

“Alright, lets go,” he says gently. Rin takes Mariko and they head outside so Makoto can arm the security system and lock it behind them. Haru leans against the side of the truck when Rei and Nagisa say their goodbyes before climbing into a light blue Prius, and Haru watches in mild amusement as Rei drives them away.

The truck and a slick black Acura are the only cars left in the lot, and Haru glares when Yamazaki hits a button on his keys and the sedan's trunk pops open. Makoto takes Mariko and works on getting her back in her car seat. Yamazaki drops his bag in the trunk and holds out a hand for Rin's bag and Rin shakes his head at him. Yamazaki shrugs and closes the trunk.

“Sorry Sousuke, head back without me. I'm going to crash at Makoto's,” Rin says carefully looking away. Yamazaki looks from Rin to Makoto hunched over in the truck and frowns.

“Does Makoto know that?” he says mildly. Honestly, Haru wonders the same.

“Makoto! Do you care if I crash at your place?” Rin raises his voice so Makoto can hear him from the truck. Makoto pokes his head out and looks at them with confusion.

“No, I don't mind?” Rin smiles smugly at Yamazaki who only shrugs.

“Do you two want to come too?” Makoto asks. Haru and Yamazaki look at each other.

“I'll come,” Haru says quickly, not looking away from Yamazaki. Yamazaki stares down at him for a hard second before looking away, disinterested.

“Maybe next time,” he says. Haru glares in victory.

“Have fun painting your nails or whatever,” Yamazaki says, waving as he slides in his car. Rin looks over to Makoto with a grin. Makoto laughs and opens his door.

“Before you ask, no I don't have any nail polish,” he says. Rin yanks open the passenger door and shoves Haru towards it. He realizes a second too late that it was all in Rin's plan to squish him in the middle seat. He turns his head to glare at Rin and is met with a less than innocent smile.

“Too bad,” Rin says to Makoto, but he looks straight at Haru. He ignores Haru's pointed looks and pushes him farther and farther on the bench seat.

“Do you ever think of just not messing with the poor guy?” Makoto asks, clicking his seat belt on. Haru snorts at the 'poor guy' line as he finally gives up resisting and settles tentatively in the middle.

“Wow, rude. I happen to look smokin' with painted nails, and you know it.” Makoto doesn't argue and hums noncommittally, smiling patiently.

“Messing with Sousuke is just a bonus,” Rin concedes. Makoto laughs in a way that sounds suspiciously like 'I knew it', and Haru clicks his own seat belt on. Neither Rin nor Makoto seem to mind that he's pretty much forced to take up some of both of their allotted seats, and he relaxes as Makoto backs them out and merges back onto the street. This was a kind of familiar he had missed. Rin plays with the radio before landing on some rock song in English, and Makoto talks to him quietly about his training. Haru yawns. Makoto flicks the heater on, and Haru finds it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. The low hum of Makoto's voice and the pleasant heat on his feet relaxes him, and he slumps into Makoto's side before finally closing his eyes.

 

Makoto feels the quiet moment when Haru finally relaxes into him and succumbs to sleep. He comes to a stop at a light and looks down at him. His breath is a steady lift and fall to his frame, his damp hair hiding his face. Something familiar tugs at Makoto, and he wants to wrap his arms around Haru and... And he's not sure what. Rin clears his throat and Makoto snaps up to look at him.

“Light changed,” Rin says pointedly. Makoto swallows and turns back to the road. He was so screwed.

“I'm worried about him,” Makoto says softly when the quiet of the cab stretches. Rin grunts in agreement, shifting in his seat.

“He scared me earlier, he could barely stand,” he says, remembering how Haru had nearly collapsed in his arms when he pulled him out of the pool. His eyes had been bright and shining, but seeing his body in such a weak state scared him. Makoto sees Rin chew his lip from the corner of his eye.

“He's been turning me down to go swimming whenever I offer to take him,” he says at last. Makoto blinks and looks over to him at that. Rin looks out the window, looking guilty.

“You never told me that,” Makoto says quietly. He winces when it comes out sounding like an accusation.

“Hey, he's not _my_ responsibility,” Rin hisses and Makoto goes for a disarming smile.

“I know, Rin. I just figured he kept swimming with you, at least,” Makoto trails off. He doesn't dare ask how long it's been since Rin saw Haru swim last. When Rin looks at Haru this time his face mirrors the concern gnawing in Makoto's stomach.

“If he...” Makoto swallows, the words hard for him to get out.

“...hasn't been swimming, what _has_ he been doing?” Rin frowns and reaches a hand out, tenderly brushing Haru's bangs away.

“I wish I knew.” Makoto looks back at the road.

When he eases the truck into his driveway and cuts the engine, they sit in silence for a second. Rin stretches and yawns and Makoto looks back at Haru. He's still fast asleep, mouth slightly parted. He looks over at Rin and Rin rolls his eyes.

“Oi, Haru, stop drooling all over Makoto,” Rin says, gently poking Haru in the ribs. Makoto watches as Haru blinks himself awake, clearly disoriented.

“Hey,” he says quietly, smiling when Haru focuses on him. There's a second when Haru's face is open and soft, before it sharpens into a frown and looks at Rin.

“I don't drool,” he says sharply. Rin laughs and slides out of his seat. Haru leans away from Makoto and Makoto wildly finds himself missing the weight of him. He shakes himself out of it and grabs their bags while Rin grabs the still sleeping Mariko. When he lets them in they both stand awkwardly behind him, unsure where to go.

“Either of you hungry?” Makoto hedges. They had both gone all out in the pool, if they weren't too exhausted to eat they were probably starving. Makoto was feeling pretty hungry himself.

“Long as it's not mackerel,” Rin says with a shrug. He misses the pointed look Haru shoots him. Makoto stifles a laugh and flicks on the light in the kitchen.

“Help yourself, I'll go put Mariko to bed and get the futon,” he says. Rin squeezes Mariko close and pecks the top of her head before reluctantly handing her over to Makoto. Haru watches the exchange, but doesn't comment.

“Hope you're ready for meat, Haru,” Rin sneers at Haru as Makoto turns to the stairs. Makoto's halfway up the stairs when he hears Rin's outraged wail. Makoto smiles to himself. He already knew there was no meat in his fridge.

 

In the end, they settle on instant noodles. Everyone was too tired to cook something decent or wait for delivery. Rin is dishing the noodles into bowls when Makoto fumbles down the stairs, his arms overstuffed with the futon, blankets and pillows. Haru takes what he can off the top and Makoto smiles gratefully at him. They drop everything in the living room, and join Rin back at the table in the kitchen.

Haru takes the seat next to Makoto, and kicks Rin under the table when he leers at him. Luckily, Makoto doesn't seem to notice and Rin lets it drop. They eat peacefully, and Haru feels his eyes getting heavier with every bite. He's barely got the energy to be annoyed that Rin and Makoto seem fresh as they were before swimming for hours, keeping an easy conversation going. Makoto tries to include Haru, but Haru doesn't mind being the back burner. He's enjoying a full stomach and the deep exhaustion still spread in his limbs.

He finishes his noodles first, and sets his bowl in the sink before excusing himself to go change. He grabs his bag and finds the clothes he knew Makoto would bring down for him and heads to the bathroom. The first thing he does is hang his jammers up over the shower rod, letting them dry properly. He can hear Rin's voice close from outside, and hurriedly switches from his clothes into Makoto's. He takes a healthy lungful of the smell from them and closes his eyes. He's tugging the shirt down when Rin starts banging on the door.

“Haru, stop being a diva and let me in,” Rin yells from outside. Haru rolls his eyes and adjust his shirt before unlocking the door. Rin stands outside the door, fist raised in mid-knock, his jammers in his other hand. Haru steps aside so Rin can squeeze past him.

“You look ridiculous,” Rin says, tugging one of the sleeves down until it nearly slips off Haru's shoulder. He fixes it with a glare.

“They'd be just as big on you,” he says. Rin laughs.

“Which is why I'm sleeping in my own clothes and keeping my dignity,” he says. Haru considers asking how Jaws boxers and a thin undershirt helps his dignity, but decides it's too much effort. Instead he grabs his toothbrush from the cup on the sink and runs water over it.

“No way. You already have a toothbrush here?” Rin asks incredulously. Haru stares at him as he covers the brush with paste.

“So?” he says, starting to brush. Rin shakes his head and pats Haru on the back before walking out. Haru blinks after him and goes back to brushing his teeth. Rin comes back a minute later, triumphant grin on his face. He proudly holds up a packaged toothbrush to Haru, and Haru tilts his head.

“I got one too,” Rin says, smile splitting his face. Haru doesn't see what the big deal is. He spits and rinses with water from the tap and pats Rin's head as he walks out.

“Good for you,” he says, yawning at the end. Rin bristles and pushes his hand off.

Makoto's washing the dishes when Haru slips back into the kitchen, and Haru watches him for a second before stepping up to help him. He dries what Makoto's already washed, and makes a neat stack in the cupboards. Makoto barely reacts, and Haru thinks he must be thinking too hard about something. He nudges him, and Makoto flashes him a smile. Haru opens his mouth to say something and a yawn comes out instead.

“Why don't you go lay down? I'll finish and be right over,” Makoto says warmly. If he was any less tired, Haru would have argued. Instead, he nods and pads over to the couch, and falls into it.

 

“He's out again,” Rin says quietly, sliding into a chair at the table. Makoto hangs the damp kitchen towel over the oven door bar and takes a seat across from him.

“He really overdid it..” Makoto sighs.

“He's pretty out of shape,” Rin agrees, tying his hair back in a ponytail.

“What happened, Rin?” Makoto asks. He sounds lost even to himself. Rin's face pinches and his shoulders slump.

“The few times I got him to go swim with me, I basically had to drag him out of his apartment. And then he just wanted to float and shit, he never wanted to race or anything,” Rin says scowling. Makoto slumps forward and Rin rubs his arms uneasily.

“This whole time, you think he hasn't been swimming?” Makoto says quietly. He does little to mask the sadness in his voice.

“Not enough,” Rin says.

“It's not just because of his parents, right?” Makoto leans his head on his arms and looks over at Rin. Rin blinks in confusion. _Crap._

“Because of what?” Rin asks, eyes hardening. Makoto raises his hands in defense.

“Because of what, Makoto?” Rin's voice is a little louder and Makoto shoots a look towards the living room unconsciously.

“You should ask Haru,” Makoto hedges. Rin's stare goes flat and Makoto understands.

“He probably wouldn't tell you anyway, huh,” he says with a sigh. Rin rolls his shoulders.

“If he hasn't yet, then no. What happened?” Rin asks deflating. Makoto considers.

“You have to ask him if you want the whole story, but he probably doesn't want to tell it again anyway,” Makoto says. If Haru were awake, he'd probably just shrug and let Makoto speak for him like always.

“They got divorced, right around the same time...” Makoto doesn't finish it. Makoto doesn't need to look at Rin to know the emotions that are flashing through him. Anger first, like Haru had been hiding it. Then the sorrow and pity, that Haru had gone through it alone. Makoto looks up and catches a bit of the third, the crushing realization that they could have, _should have_ been there for him.

“That was about the same time he stopped swimming with me regularly,” Rin's voice is a ghost of his usual cadence. Things start falling into place for Makoto, and each puzzle piece falling feels like it's suffocating him.

“I always thought that he just needed some space, and that if I forced myself in his life it'd be a mistake.” Makoto swallows hard, trying and failing to banish the guilt in his throat like bile back down.

“I should have tried harder. I let him down. _Rin.”_ his voice comes out rough on Rin's name, and Rin's hands are on his back in an instant.

“Whoa, easy big guy,” he says soothingly, rubbing light circles on his shoulders.

“You did what you could. It wasn't like you didn't have a crapload of stuff on your plate either. Besides, Haru's not the type to blame others anyway,” Rin says. Makoto hiccups a laugh.

“No, he normally just blames... himself.” Makoto's wide eyes shoot to Rin's.

 _“Shit,”_ Rin spits. Makoto wants to throw up.

“Rin,” Makoto chokes on the word this time. Rin looks to the living room and back to Makoto. Makoto puts his head in his hands.

“I'm the worst friend. Rin, I'm the _actual worst_ friend.” Makoto's eyes are squeezed shut and he doesn't see the nervous way Rin looks everywhere but at him. Later, after he's slept a bit of the guilt off and seen Haru's eyes light up while he colors with Mariko, it will hit Makoto that Rin's been through this before. He'll realize that it was just like in high school when Rin struggled so much with reconnecting with them, even though he was the only one who had ever pushed anyone away. Later, after all of this settles into Makoto's stomach, he'll call Rin and they'll talk into the night.

But right now, Makoto feels weak and his thoughts are stormy. He curls in on himself, feeling smaller than he has been in decades. Right now, he feels like he'll never be able to make it up to Haru, let alone face him. His nose starts running, and he sniffs helplessly. Rin's hand wraps around his arm and snags his attention.

“Easy, beefcake,” he says. Makoto chokes out a laugh.

“Really, Rin? Now of all times,” Makoto sniffles and peeks his bleary eyes up to Rin. Rin squeezes his arm and looks at him seriously.

“Those arms demand respect and they will get it,” he deadpans. Makoto lets out half a chuckle despite himself.

“It's okay Makoto. He's back now, right?” Rin says, leaning back in his chair and releasing Makoto's arm. Makoto takes an unsteady breath.

“What are we going to do?” He asks, looking up at the ceiling.

“Shit, if I knew that I would have done it years ago. We do the best we can, that's all I know,” Rin says honestly. Makoto lets that roll around in his mind. He realizes Rin's right; that's really all they could do for now.

“I thought I was supposed to be the counseling type,” he says lightly. Rin snorts.

“Experience before glistening muscles, I guess,” Rin quips. Makoto's mouth falls open.

“I do not _glisten_ ,” he hisses. Rin raises an eyebrow and looks over Makoto's arms for an exaggerated moment and Makoto wishes he had something to throw at him.

“Honestly,” he says shaking his head. Rin breaks into a smile and gets to his feet, stretching.

“Relax, I'm not gonna jump you or anything, I'll sleep down here like a good boy,” Rin says with a grin. Makoto groans and Rin flashes teeth.

“I can't take you anywhere,” Makoto grumbles under his breath. Rin tosses a playful punch into his shoulder and he gets up and follows him to the living room.

Haru looks like he passed out as soon as he hit the cushions, and Makoto frowns for a second before picking his feet up and rearranging him until he's lying down. He ignores Rin sniggering behind him and covers Haru with a thick blanket before turning back around. He shoots Rin a look to be quiet and they move the coffee table off to the side to make room for the futon next to Haru. Rin flops himself down on it as soon as Makoto lays it out, and Makoto unceremoniously drops a blanket over him too.

“Thanks Mom,” Rin says once he fights through to air. Makoto rolls his eyes.

“Need anything?” he asks. Rin stifles a laugh and Makoto gives him a look.

“No, no, I'm all tucked in and good to go,” he says. Makoto shakes his head.

“Going running in the morning?” Rin asks around a yawn.

“Yeah?” Rin stretches and settles down in his futon.

“Wake me up, I'll go with you,” he says. Makoto smiles.

“Sure. Goodnight Rin,” he says.

“Night babe,” Rin mumbles, eyes already closed. Makoto huffs a laugh and turns out the light.

Makoto sleeps fitfully, and when the alarm on his phone buzzes him awake it comes as a relief. He doesn't bother to snooze it, and stretches his arms up as he stumbles to his feet. Mariko is still asleep and, like most mornings, Makoto leans over her crib and watches her sleep as he wakes up. He brushes her hair off her face and replays the night before over in his head.

He peeks through the blinds and shivers a little at the rain pelting the ground outside. When he gets dressed, he layers compression pants under his shorts for warmth and grabs a jacket. He checks on Mariko one more time before grabbing the monitor and heading downstairs.

Haru's rolled onto his side, but otherwise looks unchanged. Rin on the other hand, has somehow tangled the blanket around his ankles, with the pillow Makoto had brought for him on top of his head. Makoto kneels down and picks the pillow up off him. Rin groans.

“Rin, wake up,” Makoto whispers.

“Piss off,” Rin responds, eyes closed. Makoto nudges him.

“Rin, you need to go run, remember?” he tries. Rin groans and rolls over, one hand grabbing around blindly for the pillow. He gives up after a second and seems to fall back asleep.

“Rinrin,” Makoto says softly. Rin twitches. Makoto holds his breath as Haru rolls over to face them.

“Rinrin, Haru's gonna beat you,” he says quietly in Rin's ear.

“Like Hell,” Rin grumbles. Makoto shakes his shoulders, not wanting to lose the progress he's made.

“Come on, rise and shine,” Makoto says, smiling widely when Rin's eyes slit open and glare at him. Rin blinks slowly.

“Did you call me Rinrin?” He asks finally, slowly sitting up. Makoto suppresses a laugh at his bed hair. His hair tie was long gone.

“It worked. Do you still want to go for a run?” Rin yawns and sighs.

“Yeah. Yeah give me a sec I'll change,” he says, and gets to his feet. He walks slowly to his bag and digs around for clothes, and Makoto takes the chance to look back at Haru.

Haru's shoulders rise and fall evenly, and Makoto stomps down the nagging feeling of remorse threatening to overwhelm him in his chest. He hears the bathroom door close, and takes the opportunity to pull the blankets up higher around Haru's shoulders. He sets the monitor quietly on the ground next to him, one hand lingering on Haru's shoulder. He swears to himself he'll do better by Haru, somehow. The sound of the toilet flushing and water running draws him out of it, and by the time Rin walks out looking marginally more awake, Makoto is stretching his legs. Rin looks at him and rubs his eyes. Makoto flashes him a smile and switches legs.

“Okay, its too fucking early for you to be wearing _that_ ,” Rin says gesturing towards Makoto. He frowns and looks himself over. His clothes were clean, and his shirt didn't even have any holes in it. Makoto looks back at him.

“I'm wearing running clothes?” he asks. Rin drags a hand down his face.

“Makoto, those hardly counted as shorts when you were in high school. How did you even get your ass in there?” Makoto feels his face heat up and he looks more closely at himself. They were a little short, but the pants underneath kept him decent.

“Says the guy who had what, three outfits in his bag?” Makoto says with a smile. Rin throws a punch at him and Makoto dodges with a laugh.

“It's my _gym_ bag, it has my _gym_ clothes,” Rin hisses at him. Makoto pats Rin's shoulder and gently steers him towards the door.

“Whatever you say, Rin,” Makoto says. He smiles when Rin groans.

“It's a good thing you're a hunk, Makoto.” Makoto laughs and opens the door.

 

Haru wakes up to a soft sizzle. Slowly he realizes he's curled up on Makoto's sofa and for a blissful moment he keeps his eyes closed and enjoys the warmth of his little cocoon. He takes a deep breath and is met with Makoto's scent and wonders how long he could get away with just laying there.

Makoto's voice and Mariko's muffled cooing filters from the kitchen, and Haru decides he won't miss his makeshift bed with them out waiting for him. He sits up slowly, unfamiliar soreness spreading through his limbs. He stretches his arms up tentatively, and they feel like they're cast with lead. He rolls his head on his shoulders and gets to his feet.

Makoto's standing over the range when Haru enters the kitchen, humming to himself as he scrambles a pan of eggs. Mariko's busy scattering cheerios over her table, and Haru runs his hand over her hair when he walks by. She chirps up at him and Makoto glances back and smiles when he sees Haru.

“Good morning Haru! Sleep okay?” Makoto says cheerily, turning back to his pan.

“Morning,” Haru answers, sliding into a seat next to Mariko. His legs feel too heavy and he's grateful for the seat.

“I've got eggs and toast, want some tea?” Makoto asks.

“Please,” Haru says. Mariko holds up a handful of cheerios to him, and he blinks at her. She shakes her tiny fist and Haru slowly takes the cereal from her. She smiles encouragingly at him and he looks at the little rings in his hand for a second before eating one cautiously. Mariko squeals and breaks into excited laughter.

“Jeez you're full of energy in the morning, aren't you?” Rin asks from the entry, and Haru watches as Rin plops himself down in the chair on the other side of her and rubs a towel over his hair. Haru looks back at Makoto and thinks his hair looks damp too. He shoots Rin a sharp look and Rin smiles.

“Catch up on your beauty rest, Haru? You should've come on our run so I could beat you at that too,” Rin says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. Makoto sets a mug down in front of each of them before Haru can come up with a retort.

“Pretty sure you were complaining about the rain the whole time though,” Makoto says lightly. Rin shoots him a look and Makoto sheepishly turns back to his eggs.

“And I beat you twice last night,” Haru says finally. He hears Makoto snort behind Rin and he smiles into his tea.

“Luck,” Rin says defiantly. Haru hums noncommittally and for a second Rin looks like he might get up and challenge him again right there. Mariko offers Haru more cheerios and Rin's face crumples.

“Macchan how could you? I thought you only shared with me?” Rin sounds comically heartbroken and Haru takes the offered cheerios with a little grin. Cereal never tasted so good.

“She shares with everyone Rin, it's a good thing,” Makoto says trying to keep the peace. Rin lets out a pitiful sound and Haru holds his hand out to Rin, offering him the rest of his cheerios. Rin looks at them distrustfully before accepting a few. Mariko cheers, and it seems to placate him. Makoto sets a heaping plate of eggs in front of them, followed with the toast and everything accompanying and sits down with them.

If Haru shoots Rin a triumphant grin when Makoto sits next to him, and Rin subsequently rolls his eyes at him, it all goes right over Makoto's head.

Rin's phone rings as they're cleaning up, and he takes it to the other room. The sound of running water and clinking dishes fill the room for a minute before Rin pokes his head back in.

“Sousuke's outside, so I'm taking off,” he says, shimmying into his coat. Haru frowns. Makoto looks up at him in surprise.

“He could come in you know,” he says. Rin shrugs.

“Already offered, dude's being weird,” Rin says. Makoto's eyes soften and he smiles.

“Well, say hi for me,” Makoto says. Haru looks away.

“Yeah yeah, I'll send him your love and all that,” Rin waves Makoto off and turns to Haru.

“I'll tell him you missed him,” he says to Haru with a grin. Haru glares and pushes his shoulder towards the door.

“Out,” he says coldly. Rin laughs and calls his goodbye to Makoto as Haru escorts him to the door. Haru crosses his arms over his chest and lets Rin put his shoes on. When Rin stands to go, he looks at Haru seriously and Haru eases up on him. Rin opens his mouth to say something, and seems to think better of it. He looks away and rubs the back of his neck before abruptly yanking Haru down into a tight embrace.

“Sorry Haru,” he says in Haru's hair. Haru can barely breathe, and he gives Rin's back a weak pat. Rin lets him go and Haru looks at him, confused.

“Sorry?” he asks, sucking in a breath. Rin smiles at him and opens the door.

“Lets swim together again soon, okay?” Rin says instead. Haru frowns. That was not an answer, and Rin knew it. He sighs and nods when it's clear Rin has no intention of answering him.

“Sure,” he says. Rin's smile widens, and he nods back.

“Cool. Later Haru,” he waves and is gone. Haru stands in the entry and tilts his head a little. What was all that about?

He bypasses the kitchen to change back into his clothes, and a little reluctantly throws his borrowed clothes in the hamper. He doesn't bother taking them up to the wash, since he figures he's probably going to be the next person washing clothes anyway. He's found Makoto only washes his clothes once they actually start to smell, and Haru's made it a goal to break him of that habit.

When he comes back to the kitchen, Makoto has papers spread out over the table and it scribbling something down in a notebook. Haru pours himself a glass of water and sits next to him, trying to peer over his shoulder at the notebook as discretely as he can. He quickly gives up; Makoto's shoulders just too broad for him to look over without standing. Instead, he picks up one of the packets on the table and flips through it.

“Applications?” he asks. Makoto hums and nods, crossing something out on his page.

“For your class?” he tries again. This time Makoto smiles up at him.

“Yup! Starting next week, those are my students, if you can believe that,” he laughs. Haru feels a little smile creep up on him.

“I can,” he says. Makoto's eyes gleam.

“Now I just have to figure this out and I'm all set,” he says with a sigh. He sets his notebook down and Haru peeks over at it. Makoto's drawn out a calendar, and marked in which days he's working at the fire station, pool and both. There's a slash through off days, and 'mom' written in the weekends. Makoto takes a drink of his coffee and Haru understands a moment later.

“For Mariko?” he asks. Makoto nods and rubs his hands over his shoulders.

“Yeah. I mean she can stay in the daycare at the pool while I'm teaching, and Mom will take her when I work weekends, but there's still a lot of time to cover,” Makoto says. He sounds troubled. Haru frowns at him as he eats a cheerio off Mariko's table.

“I figured I'd watch her,” he says quietly, hopefully.

“Oh Haru, I really appreciate it, but these are _long_ shifts-” Haru waves him off.

“That's fine,” he says. Makoto's eyebrows pinch together and he tries again.

“What about your work?” Haru shrugs.

“I can bring it, it doesn't matter where I work on it,” he says. Makoto presses his lips together and Haru knows he's running out of arguments. After a moment Makoto breaks eye contact and hangs his head.

“Let me pay you, at least.”

“No,” Haru says instantly.

“ _Haru_ ,” Makoto whines.

“Absolutely not,” Haru looks up and away, his usual _end of discussion_ expression. He can hear Makoto groan.

“Okay, then if you won't take money, how about pool time?” Makoto asks. Haru slides an eye over towards him. Makoto takes it as a sign to continue.

“Come with me to classes, and you can use whatever half we don't use,” Makoto says carefully. Haru turns towards him.

“You don't have to talk to anyone,” Makoto says with a little grin.

“Just come and swim, okay?” Makoto leans forward now, and Haru is having a hard time finding an argument. He chews it over in his mind for a minute before relaxing.

“Fine,” he says and Makoto lights up.

“Deal.” Makoto smiles so brightly Haru looks away. Makoto closes his notebook and sets his pencil on top, and when Haru looks back, he's playing with Mariko's hair.

“Oh!” Haru jumps a little as Makoto gets abruptly to his feet and smiles down at Haru.

“Hang on, I almost forgot!” Makoto dashes out, and Haru is left watching after him. Mariko watches him go and crushes a cheerio to dust under her hand.

When Makoto comes back, he's got a little brown paper bag in his hands and a goofy grin on his face. Haru quirks his head and stares at him.

“I actually got this a while ago, but I kept forgetting about it,” Makoto says, his cheeks turning the slightest pink. Haru looks at the bag, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Here, it's for you,” Makoto says, offering it up to him. Haru looks back at Makoto before gingerly taking it from him. Makoto sits back down and watches him anxiously. Now Haru's really curious.

He unfolds the top of the bag and peeks inside. His hands tighten, crumpling the paper and his throat feels thick when he sees what's inside. Slowly, he reaches a hand in and pulls the little dolphin key chain out, and stares in awe at the thick brass key hanging off the end.

“I figured it was about time you got one...” Makoto says next to him, and Haru swallows hard. He sets the key in his palm, and runs over the teeth with his other hand. It's heavy and solid. _Precious metal_ comes to his mind unbidden. Makoto looks a little nervous next to him and suddenly Haru feels it too.

“Makoto...” he says, and has to swallow when his voice comes out distant.

“Thank you,” he says. Makoto smiles and laughs, and Haru can feel him relax. He relaxes and he thinks some of Makoto's mirth transfers to him, because he finds himself smiling back at him.

“Anytime Haru-chan,” Makoto says warmly. Mariko cheers and throws cereal at them, and they look at each other before they both laugh with her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! I don't know if I'll get another chapter done before the new year with work and family stuff, so Happy New Years!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haru stands outside Makoto's door and stares at the key sitting heavily in his palm. He rolls the little dolphin key chain over and smiles, sliding the key into the lock for the first time.

Haru's hand slaps against the pool wall hard, and when he surges out of the water and gasps for breath he's smiling at the sting in his hand. Rin's doing the same in the lane next to him, and he breaks out in an uneven laugh when his eyes meet Haru's.

“Not bad, merboy!” he says once he's caught some breath back. It annoys Haru that he has to pant a few more short breaths before he can retort, so instead he slaps the water and splashes him.

“Oi!” Rin yells at him and Haru dives under. When he surfaces a safe distance away Rin shakes his head at him from his lane.

“Don't get cocky just because you're improving,” Rin says. Haru shrugs.

“Look who's talking,” he says easily. Rin rolls his eyes and doesn't take the bait. They're both easier in the water, Haru thinks. Somehow both of them are closer to who they really are in the water in a way that's hard to imitate out of it. It's a glue between them Haru's always prized. He ducks his head under the dividers and swims over towards him.

Rin pulls himself up on to the edge of the pool and perches with his legs in the water. He rests a hand in his chin and leans forward to watch Haru. Haru sinks a little in the water and waits for whatever he wants to say. Rin's eyes focus on him and his lips pinch.

“What?” Haru asks. A voice in his head reminds him he was going to wait for Rin to speak first and he silences it, shaking the hair out of his eyes. Rin grins down at him.

“You're looking good. Better,” Rin says. Haru goes still and stares. _Explain_ , his eyes say. Rin doesn't. He smiles and offers Haru a hand up. Haru sighs and obediently takes his hand and settles on the edge with him. Haru watches Rin out of the corner of his eye. He'd been making a huge effort to get Haru swimming more often ever since that night at Makoto's pool, even going as far as making Haru his own training regimen. Haru had handed it back to him and asked for a copy of Rin's only to be laughed at. Rin had called Haru's regimen a 'watered down rehab' version with an annoying smile.

Haru had scoffed at it, but if he's really honest, he appreciates it. He doesn't know why Rin's pushing him, but for the time being he needs it. He hadn't realized how out of shape he'd gotten until he was sore and stiff after that first night. Rin was right, he had a lot of work to do to catch up. Rin watches the water, and Haru shifts his gaze to it too. Haru enjoys the quiet until Rin knocks his ankle into Haru's. Haru looks over at him but Rin keeps his eyes trained ahead.

“You know...” Rin trails off. Haru knocks his ankle back into Rin's. Rin looks at him and smiles, but its not right.

“Nevermind. It's not important,” he says. Haru frowns and opens his mouth the same time the door opens behind them and a gust of chilly air blows over them. Rin leans back and look at the door upside down, and Haru watches as his face splits into a real smile.

“You're late,” he accuses. Haru straightens out and looks past Rin. Yamazaki stands in the door still fully dressed with a thick wool coat. His eyes go right past Haru to Rin before he speaks.

“Yeah well, traffic's a bitch and you're still in the pool anyway,” he says gruffly. He starts unbuttoning his coat and Haru looks back at the water, uninterested. Next to him, Rin leans back on his elbows.

“You can buy me dinner and make it up to me,” he says.

“Fine,” Yamazaki says. Rin turns to Haru and Haru ignores him when he pokes at his side.

“You wanna come too? It's on Sousuke,” Rin says. Haru raises an eyebrow and glances at Yamazaki. Yamazaki is frozen in the middle of taking his coat off, and Haru thinks its a mildly horrified look on his face. Haru bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. He has no desire to eat awkwardly between Rin and Yamazaki, but he still mulls it over for a minute to see if Yamazaki gets nervous. He doesn't.

“Pass,” Haru says, slipping back into the water. He swims back out into the middle of the pool and floats on his back, and can hear Rin yell something after him.

“He's so fucking weird,” Yamazaki says with a sigh. Haru pops an eye open just in time to see Rin glare up at him.

“Man, chlorine is really bad for suits, isn't it?” Rin says. Haru can see the flash of teeth from halfway across the pool. Yamazaki frowns down at him.

“Rin,” he says warningly. Haru drifts a little closer.

“What is that? Cotton? Wool?” Rin asks with a grin. Yamazaki shifts uncomfortably.

“Cashmere,” he says after a second. Rin whistles.

“Be a shame if that got splashed, don't you think?” Rin says. Haru laughs under his breath, unnoticed by either of them. Yamazaki looks down at Rin for a long moment before shrugging and turning back to the door.

“Whatever, I'll wait outside. Don't take too long or I'll leave without you.” The door closes behind him and Rin lets out a laugh he's clearly been holding in. Haru flips over on his stomach and smiles under the water when Rin kicks a little wave at him.

“He's so easy to screw with,” Rin says, still laughing.

“Come on Haru, let's call it a night.” Rin stands and leans down to give Haru his hand. Haru takes it and lets Rin pull him up. Rin leads him back to the locker rooms and Haru half listens as Rin chatters about his own training and his teammates. He's feeling the familiar exhaustion seeping in now that he's out of the water, and he's only thinking of what to make for dinner while he rinses the pool water out of his hair and changes.

When they're about to head out, Haru grabs the back of Rin's jacket and makes him wait. It feels like a thousand years since they fought, and Haru's glad he's got his friend back. Rin turns around is surprise, raising an eyebrow and looking at Haru's hand.

“Haru?” he asks.

“I'm sorry,” Haru says. He doesn't look up. Rin shifts uncomfortably.

“What's all this about?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head and avoiding looking at Haru.

“I'm sorry. For all that time,” Haru stops. He bites his lip and Rin laughs nervously.

“Hey, it's okay now remember? We were all to blame for that,” Rin says. Haru looks at him, catching the concern flashing in Rin's eyes. Haru lets go of his jacket.

“We're good now, right?” Rin asks him. He sounds hopeful. Haru blinks at him before his face relaxes. He nods and Rin lets out a breath.

“We're good,” he says. Rin locks an arm around Haru's waist and steers him out of the locker room, toothy smile back on his face.

 

He waves to Rin from the sidewalk as Yamazaki drives them off. Rin had offered to drive him back, much to Yamazaki's chagrin. But the weather was still mild, and Haru doesn't mind the walk, he likes the time to think and decompress after the workout Rin had put him through.

He stops by a convenience store near his apartment and buys a bento for dinner before climbing the steps up to his door. He flicks the lights on and his eyes land on a half finished canvas in the middle of the room. He had given up on it when Rin had called him earlier, but looking at it now he could see what he was missing earlier. He shrugs his coat off and pecks through his paints.

He opens his window a few hours later, careful not to smear paint on it. It was already all over him. He washes it off his hands in the kitchen and sinks down on his couch. He picks up his neglected bento from the bag on the ground and picks through it.

His canvas is covered in color now, brilliant waves crashing around a rocky cliff. He hadn't been able to figure out the lighting before, but the answer had seemingly come to him during his swim. He smiles around a piece of egg and eyes his unwashed palette, smeared with rusty reds for the cliffs and pale greens to highlight the waves. He leans back and tucks his feet up underneath him. He was exhausted from swimming, but finishing his work left him with the buzzing feeling of accomplishment in his chest.

He hums to himself as he cleans up, some catchy tune he had heard in the store earlier. By the time he's got his space back to livable, it's late and his exhaustion is starting to win out. He yawns and checks his phone before falling against his bed. He had been so wrapped up in his work that he had completely missed Makoto's text, but even that disappointment doesn't get to him. He'd see him in the morning, and then it was his first full day with Mariko.

He undresses, only lifting himself off the bed to slide clothes off hips and shoulders, and buries himself under his blankets. He sets his alarm and drops his phone somewhere near his pillow. When sleep takes him, his dreams are colored as brightly as the drying canvas in his living room.

 

Haru stands outside Makoto's door and stares at the key sitting heavily in his palm. He rolls the little dolphin key chain over and smiles, sliding the key into the lock for the first time. The deadbolt slides back easily, and Haru glides over the thresh hold. When Haru slips into the kitchen, Makoto is singing to himself over the stove. He debates announcing himself or listening to him sing for a little longer, but Mariko spots him and squeals and the choice is made for him.

“Good morning Haru!” Makoto says cheerfully when he turns and sees him. Haru ruffles Mariko's hair and nods.

“Morning,” he says. Mariko claps her hands before offering him a fistful of applesauce. Makoto flips something on the stove and frowns at her.

“Macchan no one is going to eat that now,” he says. She wipes it on her face, undaunted. Haru sets his bag down and rolls up his sleeves to help Makoto.

“Aga,” Mariko says proudly. Makoto sighs.

“Sorry Haru, she _was_ clean,” he says. Haru gets a plate out for Makoto to flip a piece of finished french toast out onto.

“It's fine,” he says. Mariko giggles behind them. Makoto smiles at him and drops another piece of toast onto his pan. The kitchen is warm, filled with the sizzling of the pan and Mariko's quiet murmurs. Haru smiles to himself when Makoto clicks the kettle off the stove and hands it over. It was so natural for him to make one cup of tea and one of Makoto's coffee now.

“Here, Haru,” Makoto trades him a plate of toast for his cup of coffee, and Haru sits next to Mariko to eat. Makoto hums appreciatively around a mouth of coffee, and Haru looks away and blows on his tea. It was still too hot to drink, but he doesn't comment. A minute later Makoto turns with his own plate and joins them.

“So any plans for today?” he asks. Haru shrugs. He hadn't really thought about it. Makoto smiles and takes another bite.

“You could take her out somewhere if you want. It's got to be pretty boring being cooped up in here all day,” he says. Haru takes a bite. Makoto might never be a chef, but his breakfasts were surprisingly good.

“It's not that bad,” he says. Makoto smiles and offers a tiny bite to Mariko from his fork. She grabs it with both hands and crams it in her face before waving wildly for another. Makoto sighs and takes another bite before getting up to damp a towel. He sinks down next to Mariko to wipe her face.

“Honestly,” he says, shaking his head. Haru eats another bite and watches him. He sounds tired, but his eyes were kind as always. They finish breakfast easily, and Mariko even manages to get more food in her mouth than on her face. It isn't until Makoto is putting a coat on to leave that he gets awkward.

“You'll be okay, right?” he asks. Haru blinks at him. Makoto backtracks.

“I mean, you really don't have to do this. I won't be back until tomorrow, it's a long shift, no one would blame you-”

“Makoto,” Haru cuts him off. Makoto snaps his eyes back to him and Haru frowns.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks. He counts the seconds as Makoto tries to understand.

“Wha- with you watching her? Of course I'm okay with that..” Haru waits. Makoto looks at him a little longer before his eyebrows relax and he gets it. Haru looks away.

“I just haven't left her for this long in a while,” Makoto says finally. When Haru looks back at him his smile is back and Haru relaxes.

“We'll be okay,” Haru says, answering him from earlier. Makoto's smile widens and Haru thinks he sees his hand twitch as if to reach for something. _For him?_

“Okay.” Makoto says warmly. He hefts a backpack over his shoulders and leans down to kiss the top of Mariko's head before heading to the door.

“If you want to use it, there's a stroller in the garage, and I left some money on the counter for food,” he tells Haru as they head out. Haru frowns at him and Makoto laughs.

“Oh stop it, you're watching my daughter all day and I just used the last of the eggs. I can at least buy you lunch,” he says lightly. Haru crosses his arms.

“Fine,” he says. Makoto laces up his shoes and gives Haru another smile.

“See you tomorrow?” He says.

“Yeah. See you,” Haru says. Makoto's hand wraps around the doorknob and he's gone. Haru stands in the entry for a minute before running a hand through his hair and letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. When he walks back into the kitchen Mariko chirps at him and holds up her arms. He smiles at her and wipes applesauce off her nose.

“How about a bath?” He asks her. She makes a bubbly sound and Haru takes it as a yes. He picks her up carefully to keep applesauce and syrup off his clothes, and lugs her upstairs, a little excited for an excuse for a bath himself.

After a bath and an hour of playtime with one of the noise makers she got for her birthday, Mariko seems ready for a nap. She's falling asleep on the carpet and Haru moves her up on the couch with him and pulls out his sketchbook. Mariko falls back asleep easily, and grabs onto Haru's trousers with one hand. He smiles down at her and rubs a hand over her back.

He sketches and enjoys the quiet until his stomach growls at him. He checks the time and gently disentangles himself from Mariko to hunt through the kitchen. As promised, an envelope sits next to the kettle and Haru glares at it. He opens the fridge instead. It's not as bad as the first time he'd peeked inside Makoto's refrigerator, but it's not much better. There was a bag of lettuce and a couple of carrots, milk and protein shakes, and what looks like the same beer from the first time. Haru closes it with a defeated sigh. He hears Mariko make a noise from the living room and eyes the envelope. He slips it into his back pocket without looking inside and heads back for Mariko. Maybe Makoto was right, a little adventure would could be good for them.

After a frustrated twenty minutes trying to figure out how to uncollapse the collapsible stroller and strap Mariko into it, and the fifteen minute walk into town, Haru thinks he might be in over his head. He had thrown his phone and wallet into the baby bag Makoto had left for him and slung it over a shoulder, completely underestimating its weight. Makoto always threw it around like it was full of cotton, and Haru feels a bit deceived when he has to switch shoulders as the first one starts to ache.

He had planned on going to the store for groceries, but he already knows he won't be able to carry much back. At least Mariko didn't give him any trouble, seemingly happy to sit and watch the world roll by her. He smiles when she waves animatedly at a runner with a dog, and tells her yes, that was a big dog. He stops at an intersection and waits to cross the first time he hears whispers behind him. He glances behind him and catches two middle aged women looking at him, one of them covering her mouth with a hand. Their eyes go wide and their whispers stop. The light changes and he nods at them before crossing.

He wouldn't have thought anything of it until it happens again a couple of blocks away. This time its a woman to her child, who looks at Haru with wide eyes. Haru doesn't look at them and keeps walking. _Was this what it was like all the time for Makoto?_ The thought puts knots in his stomach. Makoto had never liked extra attention. Even when it was positive, he'd always try to brush it off or play his accomplishments down. While it was true he was more confident these days, Haru can't help but wonder what the whispers would do to him.

The more he thinks about it, the more it angers him. These people, these _strangers_ had no idea. How dare they whisper like they know his business? It must have been even worse when Mariko was smaller. Haru wants to yell. He settles for glaring, and the next time he hears whispering he flings around and does just that until they apologize and duck away.

He ends up in front of a familiar store front and pushes the door open with one arm and awkwardly rolls the stroller inside. The smell inside calms him down instantly, and he only waits inside the door for a second before Takagawa-san spots him and comes over.

She stands in front of him and looks him over, one hand on her hip. Her eyes soften on Mariko and she nods him over towards a table.

“No Makoto today?” She asks.

“He's at work,” Haru says. Takagawa-san nods like she expected as much and leans down to take Mariko. Haru bites his lip before sitting.

“I'll bring her a chair,” she says curtly to him, hefting Mariko onto a hip.

“I can-” Haru starts, but Takagawa-san gives him a scathing look that stops him short.

“Need a menu? Or the mackerel again?” she asks, a little kinder when Haru settles back in his chair. Haru swallows.

“Mackerel, please,” he says. Takagawa-san smiles at him for the first time that day.

“Good. I'll be back,” she says. Haru shifts in his seat and watches Mariko's fluffy head disappear behind the doors to the back. He still wasn't sure how to be around her, but at least she wasn't judging him for Mariko.

She's not gone for long, coming back with Mariko on one hip and a high chair on the other. Haru fidgets in his seat for a second before giving in and taking the chair from her to carry it back to his table. She gives him an indecipherable look and Haru ducks his head. She leans down to give Mariko a kiss on her chubby cheek before leaving them alone again. Haru relaxes and leans back in his chair.

“How do you do that?” He asks her mildly. She blinks at him and coos. He laughs under his breath and shakes his head. All part of her charm, he supposes. Takagawa-san returns with an ice water for him and a little bowl of shelled edamame she puts in front of Mariko. Mariko immediately knocks the bowl over, and Haru feels the color draining from his face as a handful of edamame roll off the table onto the floor.

To his surprise, Takagawa-san only laughs and ruffles her hair before leaving them again. Haru watches her go in wonder. She was pretty nice underneath it all. He sips his water and alternates watching Mariko make a mess out of the poor soy beans and watching out the window at his side. He still hasn't been here all that often, but it was a surprisingly comfortable place for him. He thinks Makoto probably felt the same when he had found the little restaurant.

Takagawa-san sets his plate in front of him with a faint clank and Haru thanks her. She nods and leaves, picking an edamame out of Mariko's hair on her way. Haru's mackerel is as good as he remembers. He eats in peace as Mariko plays with her food. He feeds her bites of rice off his plate, cringing when she smashes a pod into the rice before eating the whole thing.

He clears his plate and is wiping Mariko's face with a napkin when Ichiro-san hobbles out to him, paper bag clutched in one of his hands. He looks at him curiously until Ichiro-san gets close enough to speak.

“Haru! Didn't think you'd slip by me, did you?” Ichiro-san claps a hand over his shoulder and Haru tries for a smile.

“Hello, Ichiro-san,” he says. Ichiro-san smiles down at him before poking at Mariko and making her giggle.

“Doin' alright, son? You're looking pretty chipper,” Ichiro-san says without looking up at him. Haru swallows an ice cube. Mariko grabs Ichiro-san's nose and tugs, buying him time.

“I'm. I'm good. Thank you,” he manages. _What was it with people?_ Ichiro-san grins up at him.

“Good to hear! Bring this to Makoto, will ya? Boy needs to eat more,” Ichiro-san scratches at his stubble and gestures at the bag he left on the table. Haru nods, although he knows Makoto eats twice as much as him. He understands what he means though. There was a difference when it was good food.

“Good. Come by anytime, Haru. I mean it,” Ichiro-san grabs his shoulder again, and Haru finds himself nodding dumbly as he hobbles away.

“Thank you,” he says, loud enough for Ichiro-san to hear him. He waves without turning around, and disappears back into the kitchen. When Haru peeks inside the bag he smells curry. He packs it into his bag, and leaves some of Makoto's cash on the table, making sure to leave a few bills over the total. He slips out with only the bell above the door to announce it.

 

Haru manages to find the fire station without too much difficulty, and he stands in front of the building debating if he should really go in or not. It doesn't look busy from the outside, but he has no idea what it's like inside. Mariko coos at him when he doesn't move.

“Want to go see your dad?” He asks her. She chirps and bounces, and Haru smiles at her.

“Me too,” he admits quietly. What choice did he have? He hits the button for the automatic door and pushes her inside. It looks like any office inside, a low desk for reception blocking access to the rest of the building. There's a woman sitting at the desk, but Haru can hardly see her behind the three men lounging on her desk. Based off their size and build, Haru guesses they're firefighters like Makoto, but right now they look more like loiterers. They're crammed around the computer screen, chatting to each other.

Haru inches closer, still unnoticed. He can see through the tangle of limbs that they're watching some TV show. A person on screen slips and falls, and the when the men erupt into laughter it startles Mariko into giggles of her own. The woman leans back in her chair to look at Haru, and the men turn towards him too. Haru's eyes go wide and his voice catches in his throat. The men straighten up, and every single one of them are bigger and taller than Haru, and the biggest gives him a hard look. Haru's jaw snaps with a click.

“I'm looking for Tachibana Makoto,” he says, sounding stronger than he feels. The tallest steps up in front of him.

“Who's looking for him?” He asks, leaning down into Haru's space. Haru blinks back up at him and doesn't back down. He's not as tall as Makoto, or as heavily muscled. Tension rises between them for a second before the woman at the desk speaks.

“Really, Souta? You're trying to intimidate some guy with a baby? Isn't that Macchan?” she says, lips pinched together. The men look at each other and down at Mariko, understanding dawning on their faces. They erupt into smiles and laughter and all crouch down at Mariko's level. Haru resists the urge to roll her back away from them.

“Macchan! You're so big now!”

“Wehh she really grew didn't she?”

“Her hair's longer too.” Haru chews his lip as they coo over her, still uneasy. The one called Souta seems to have completely forgotten him. Haru stands next to her, ready to snatch her up if he needs to.

“You're Haru right? Makoto's friend?” The woman from the desk closes the distance and asks him. He nods mutely. She breaks into a broad smile.

“I'm Yui. Makoto's told us all about you,” she says with a grin. Haru shifts uncomfortably. _All about him?_

“Takumi, go get Makoto,” Yui snaps her fingers at one of the men and his shoulders slump but he gets to his feet anyway.

“Wait, you're Haru? _The_ Haru?” Souta asks him, eyes wide.

“What does that mean?” Haru snaps. Souta looks a little sheepish and stands in front of him.

“Sorry about earlier, I didn't mean anything by it,” he says. Haru blinks at him. Yui slaps the back of Souta's head.

“Do it right,” she says. He rubs the back of his head and surprises Haru when he bends at the waist to bow to Haru.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

“It's okay,” he says after an awkward moment. Souta lets out a breath and straightens up, smiling widely at both of them. He holds out a hand to Haru, and Haru takes it tentatively. Souta yanks him in and throws an arm around him before Haru can react.

“But damn, you weren't scared of me at all!” he says laughing. Haru tries to slip out of his embrace but Souta's arms don't budge.

“No one is scared of you and we all wish you'd quit trying that sad routine,” Yui says with a long suffering sigh. The man on the ground snorts and Souta sags against Haru. Haru desperately wonders what's taking Makoto so long.

“You too, Toma? I expected this from Yui, she's heartless,” Yui shoves a finger in Souta's face and shuts him up.

“Who's heartless?” She says. Toma's snort becomes a real laugh, and Souta flounders for an answer, arms still wrapped tight around Haru. He's getting overwhelmed, and closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing.

“Haru?” Makoto's voice comes from the back of the room and Haru's eyes snap up to him. _Oh_ , Haru thinks. _That's_ what he looks like in uniform. Makoto frowns at Souta.

“Souta, what are you doing? Let him breathe,” Makoto says. Souta turns to Haru and quickly lets him go, only just realizing. Makoto's by his side a moment later, and Haru lets him stand between him and the rest. Souta mumbles out another apology and Makoto looks at Haru, his eyes asking if he's okay. Haru nods and looks away. Yui watches Makoto before clearing her throat.

“Alright, Souta, Toma, back to work!” she says, and they both groan a little before pulling themselves away from Mariko.

“Bye Haru! Nice meeting you!” Souta calls from the door. Toma waves meekly and follows him. Yui tsks and says something under her breath before returning to her desk. Makoto kneels down and pulls Mariko into his arms and smiles at Haru.

“Not exactly what I meant when I said you should get out of the house,” he says easily. Haru sighs and crouches down with him.

“It's not what I planned,” he says. Makoto laughs.

“Don't mind them. They're good guys,” Makoto says. Haru shrugs.

“They're alright,” he says noncommittally.

“So, what's up Haru?” Makoto asks. Haru had almost forgotten why he came.

“I brought your lunch,” he says, realizing it sounds like a weak excuse.

“My lunch?” Makoto tilts his head and Mariko mimics it. Haru can feel his face heating up.

“Ichiro-san asked me to,” he says. Makoto raises an eyebrow and looks at Mariko.

“You guys have been busy, huh?” he asks her. She babbles back to him. He straightens up and Haru stands with him.

“Lets go find somewhere to eat then?” he asks. Haru's not sure if he's talking to him or Mariko, but he nods anyway. Makoto picks up his bag before Haru can, and pushes the stroller into a corner. Yui waves them off when they walk past her, and Makoto leads him into the station proper. Haru doesn't see much until Makoto leads him to the garage. He tries to take everything in while Makoto navigates between fire engines and trucks to a work bench in the back. He hooks a stool with an ankle and slides it out for Haru, before taking the one next to it himself. Haru frowns at it but sits anyway. Makoto laughs and bounces Mariko on his knees.

“We have a whole kitchen with tables and everything, but its quieter out here,” he says. Haru shrugs. He doesn't really mind. He'd rather be alone with him anyway.

“How's work?” he asks. Makoto hums in Mariko's hair.

“I went out on a call for a car accident, but it wasn't major. We just ended up standing around waiting for the tow truck,” he says.

“That's.. good?” Haru says. Makoto laughs.

“Yeah, I guess. No one _wants_ to go out to a disaster, but on the other hand..” Haru smiles.

“Boring?” he asks.

“Yeah. A little.” Makoto smiles sheepishly. Haru nudges the bag with his foot.

“Ichiro-san made you curry, I think,” he says. Makoto's stomach growls as if on que and Makoto's face dusts pink. Haru takes Mariko from him and lets Makoto dig around in the bag until he comes up with the lunch. Haru was right, and Makoto pulls out a large tub of green curry and a container of rice to pour it over. Haru raises an eyebrow at the size of it, easily twice the size of a normal portion. Makoto doesn't notice, and tucks into it eagerly. Makoto laughs around a mouth of curry when he pulls out two bottles of strawberry Calpis from the bag and hands one to Haru.

Haru lets Makoto eat, the fragrant smell of his food mixing with the smell of grease and metal, making a unique scent that was oddly comforting. Makoto tries to talk while he eats, telling Haru about how Yui keeps everyone in line, or how Souta is actually the youngest, and that's why he's always trying to act tough. Haru listens, and feels a little guilty for enjoying the company more than the story.

Makoto's scraping the last of the rice up when they hear the door open again, and soon enough Souta's head pops up around the side of one of the engines. To Haru's annoyance, Mariko chirps at him and Souta calls to the rest of them, having 'found Makoto!'. Makoto pushes his knee into Haru's in quiet reassurance as Souta bounds up to them, followed by Toma and a few others Haru vaguely recognizes from Mariko's birthday party. They crowd around him and Mariko, and Haru shifts imperceptibly closer to Makoto. A woman latches onto Makoto's shoulder the same time Souta grabs Haru's.

“No fair hiding out here,” the woman says with a laugh. Souta is heavy on Haru's side, and he leans in towards Makoto to dislodge him, tightening his grip on Mariko.

“I'm hardly hiding Megumi,” Makoto says, unbothered by the contact.

“Can we play with Macchan?” Souta interrupts before Megumi can say anything. Makoto laughs.

“You all came just to see her?” he says with a hint of a pout. A couple of the people in the crowd nod and Makoto laughs louder.

“Come on Makoto, we'll be careful,” Souta says. He and Megumi pin twin puppy eyes on Makoto until he throws his hands up in defeat.

“Alright! Alright, but don't go far,” he says. Megumi and Souta immediately release Haru and Makoto and high five, but Haru doesn't budge. Souta makes grabby hands at her and Haru glares at him. Makoto nudges his shoulder, and Haru looks at Toma instead. He seems like the most responsible, and when Toma makes eye contact he silently holds out his arms to take her, understanding written across his face. Souta whines but doesn't object, and just like that they crowd around Mariko and give Haru and Makoto their space back.

Haru sits on the edge of his seat watching them with her. Souta and the others make faces at her and coo, and Mariko giggles when Megumi makes a high pitched bird call at her. Haru catches Makoto shift out of the corner of his eye, and looks over to find Makoto reclined back on his elbows on the table's top behind him, fond look in his eyes. Mariko squeals and Haru swings back to find her landing in Souta's arms. Souta tosses her in the air again and Haru's on his feet. Makoto chuckles under his breath and grabs Haru's arm before he can stop them, and he feels his stomach go through his feet as she flies up before landing safely back in Souta's arms.

They all cheer with Mariko, and the third time she lands safely Haru lets himself be tugged back towards his stool. Haru chews his lip and watches them, but they've moved on to hide and seek, and he turns to Makoto. He's in the same position, practically laying against the work bench.

“How are you okay with this?” he asks quietly. Makoto blinks at him before smiling.

“Because I trust them, Haru. They might be a bit loud and rowdy, but they're like a second family to me,” Makoto says sincerely. Haru clenches his jaw.

“Maybe more like third family,” Makoto says thoughtfully a moment later. Haru looks at him, but Makoto's eyes are fond and distant, and Haru can't tell what he's thinking about.

“Okay, want to go back to your dad?” One of them asks Mariko when she reaches towards Makoto. Souta turns towards Makoto with her.

“Daa,” she says and everyone's attention snaps to her.

“That's good Macchan! Can you say dad?” Souta asks her.

“Or Daddy?” Someone adds.

“Dadda? That's easier right? _Dadda_ ,” Megumi says, leaning close to her.

“Dadda,” Mariko says, and everyone holds their breath. The silence is deafening. All eyes are on Mariko as she reaches a little fist out in Makoto's direction. Makoto gravitates towards her silently, one of the most carefully hopeful expressions Haru's ever seen on his face.

“Mariko?” he breathes. She wraps her hand around his finger.

“Dadda!” she squeals. Sound crashes around them as Makoto chokes on a laugh and everyone erupts into cheers. Makoto scoops Mariko up in his arms, pure wonder on his face. Souta whoops and jumps on Makoto's side, and starts yelling about his arms being baby magic. Haru finds himself on his feet, standing next to Makoto. Makoto laughs and speaks to Mariko quietly, and she grabs his nose and says her word over and over. Makoto looks at Haru and his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Haru's heart feels like it might beat right out of his chest. They start chanting 'dadda' with Mariko, and Haru can feel himself being swept up in the energy. Haru starts laughing with them, and Makoto throws an arm around him and pulls him in tight. It takes only seconds before the rest of them crash around the three of them, still laughing and chanting.

Haru thinks he can understand how these people could be family. They _were_ loud and rowdy, and all had way too much energy, but even Haru can tell that they're _good_. They sweep over Makoto to laugh with him, clap him on the shoulder and congratulate him, or in some cases pull him into a hug, and Haru thinks Makoto fits right in. He smiles and watches, even as something twists in his chest.

An alarm pierces the air and all joy drops off their faces. All of them go rigid, listening to details being listed out from a voice over the PA, and move in unison before the message is even finished. Names are called, and Makoto's is one of them. He looks pained when he looks down at Mariko in his arms and then back to Haru.

“What's going on?” Haru has to raise his voice to be heard. Makoto smiles sadly at him and passes Mariko to him.

“Fire,” he says. Haru's breath lumps in his throat. Makoto leans down to kiss the top of Mariko's head, and Haru sees his hands twitch again when he stands back up.

“Sorry, Haru, I have to go. Thanks for lunch,” he says, already untying his jacket from around his hips and slinging it on.

“I'll message you when I get back in,” he says. People are running all around, but Haru's world is just the three of them. He'd never really though about how dangerous his job really was.

“Be safe,” Haru says, choking on it. Makoto doesn't notice, and smiles at him reassuringly.

“I will. See you tomorrow, Haru,” he says. Someone yells his name and one of the engines roar to life. Makoto gives him one more smile before running over. It takes less than a minute before everyone is loaded and the engine pulls out of the garage. Mariko squirms in his arms when the sirens on the engine blare to life a block away. He looks down and pets her hair.

“Dadda,” she says quietly. Haru swallows hard.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

 

Haru doesn't think he could handle Makoto's house right away, so he wanders through the grocery store with Mariko, aimlessly picking through produce and seafood. He turned his phone up to the loudest volume, but he still finds himself checking it every other minute. He's got a basket full of stuff he doesn't remember picking out and is going through the check out before the cheery ping on his phone hurls him out of his apathy. _'Make it back okay?'_ it says. Haru blinks at it. _'are you okay?'_ he sends without a thought. It takes fifty eight seconds for Makoto to message him back, and Haru counts every single one with growing anxiety. _'we're all fine, wasn't a big fire'_ Haru exhales and wonders how long it'd been since he inhaled. _'how's mariko?'_ he gets a second later. Haru at the stroller and sighs. _'playing with grapes'_ he sends. His turn comes up with the cashier, and he pays for the groceries with the rest of Makoto's money and some of his own. He manages to hang the bags off the handle of the stroller and leave the store in one piece.

 _'I'm sorry I had to rush out on you'_ Haru blinks at his screen as he walks down the street. He was sorry too, he had just been getting comfortable there. _'It's your job'_ he sends. _'I'll make it up to you'_ Haru stops in his tracks, jerking the stroller to a halt. Mariko coos questioningly at him. Haru doesn't know what Makoto means by that. His face feels hot and he's grateful for the cool breeze. He shoves his phone in his pocket without responding and walks for another block. He has to wait for the light to cross, and pulls his phone back out. _'go back to work'_ he sends. _'fine fine, have a good night Haru!'_ he gets within seconds. He doesn't reply.

By the time Haru gets back to Makoto's, his shoulders are sore and he's thoroughly exhausted. Mariko looks at him eagerly, and he doesn't complain when he hefts her up and into her high chair before digging around for something for her to eat. He's starting to understand why Makoto lives off premade shakes and meals. He feeds Mariko baby food out of a jar and feels like he'll fall asleep before she finishes. He somehow manages to put all the food away and drag the stroller into the garage, and finally, finally, Mariko shows signs of drifting off. _How does Makoto do this?_ He thinks for the hundredth time as he carries her up to her crib in Makoto's room.

He helps her into pajamas, and when he sets her down she curls up around the kangaroo and is out in minutes. Haru slumps against the side of the crib, watching for any sign of her getting a second wind. Her breathing comes in even and deep, and after another minute he decides its safe for him to follow suit. He turns around and groans when he remembers his bag is downstairs. Instead of going for it, he heads to Makoto's closet. He takes the first soft shirt he sees, and strips out of his clothes down to his briefs. He holds the fabric up to his face and inhales before slipping it over his head.

He falls onto Makoto's bed and checks his phone once more. There's nothing new, so he sets an alarm for the morning and rolls over, taking some of Makoto's blankets with him. He thinks about his visit to the station, and the look on Makoto's face when Mariko said her first word is the last thing he sees before he drifts off to sleep himself.

 

When Makoto yawns his way through his door the next morning, he's struck with nostalgia. Haru stands over the stove, blue apron tied behind his back. He laughs before he can help it, and Haru shoots him a scathing look. Mariko sees him and chirps.

“Dadda!” she says and Makoto's heart melts.

“I'm home,” he says looking down at her. She holds out a cheerio to him and he scoops her up in his arms and buries his face in her chest.

“Morning,” Haru says. Makoto peeks around Mariko at him and smiles.

“Good morning Haru! Is that the same apron from high school?” he asks. Haru flushes and turns back to the stove, and Makoto shares a laugh with Mariko.

“At least he wears clothes now, right?” he asks her. She puts a hand in Makoto's hair and babbles.

“Are you hungry or not?” Haru asks. Makoto laughs and runs his hand through Mariko's chair. He was hungry, and he knew better than to tease Haru in the morning.

“Of course,” he says. “Want help?”

“No, it's done,” Haru says, handing him a plate. Makoto shifts Mariko into one arm and takes it from him, laughing when he sees what lays on top of it. Haru shoots him a look.

“What?” he asks. Makoto sits down and smiles up at him.

“Nothing,” he says. Haru stares at him before passing him a bowl of rice, and with a smile Makoto pulls a piece of the mackerel on top of it. Some things never change.

“So how was Mariko? Did you sleep alright?” He asks around bites. It was better than he remembered it. Surprisingly, Haru colors and looks away. Makoto tilts his head at him and looks at Mariko. Mariko takes a handful of rice from his bowl and eats it with her hands.

“She was fine, she just slept all night,” Haru says. Makoto hums. He expected as much, but it didn't explain Haru's behavior. He chews a bite slowly and watches Haru pick at his.

“Do you want a ride back to Iwatobi before swimming? You could probably use a break,” Makoto says. He watches as Haru shoots him another look, this time pinched with concern.

“Don't _you_ want a break? I can stay if you want to take a nap or something,” he says. Makoto smiles at him.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. Haru stares at him, clear what he thinks of that. Makoto laughs.

“I'm way too excited to sleep,” he says. Haru blinks at him before the corners of his mouth soften, his very own way of smiling.

“You like it that much?” he says.

“I really do,” Makoto says easily, skewering another piece of mackerel off the plate and adding it to his bowl. Haru smiles into his own bowl.

“I'm glad,” he says.

 

Haru stays over while they waste away the hours leading up to Makoto's first class playing with Mariko in the living room. Makoto pushes the table out of the way to make room for her to move around, and Haru helps her build with blocks. They take turns trying to get her to say different words, but she sticks to the one she knows. When its finally time to go, Makoto looks like he's bursting at the seams with energy. He tucks Mariko into her car seat and flies back inside for their bags. Haru's losing energy just watching him, but it was sort of nice. Makoto's fingers drum to music on the steering wheel the whole ride to the pool, even though the radio stays off.

When they head inside, Haru's not sure who's more excited. His fingers itch to pull at his belt and strip down to his jammers, but he holds himself together for Makoto's sake. He'd never forgive himself if he got Makoto in trouble at a job he clearly loves. They make a quick stop at the daycare where Makoto leaves Mariko, and then its the lockers. Makoto looks down at Haru and gives him the go ahead, since they were early anyway. Haru's out of his clothes almost before Makoto can take his jacket off, and he's rinsing his hair under the shower to Makoto's soft laugh.

All of the lights are on in the pool this time, and it's almost glaringly bright. It doesn't deter Haru, and he flies across the cement to dive in. The water is cool and perfect, and Haru feels the aches and weariness wash off of him as he pushes himself forward. He stays under as long as he can, and surfaces somewhere near the back. Makoto's still not there, but Haru doesn't think much on it. He knows he won't have much time to have the pool to himself, and he doesn't plan on wasting it.

He tries to remember Rin's regimen, and smiles to himself when he realizes he skipped exactly all of the pre-swim stretches Rin had tried to engrave into him. He compromises by flipping onto his back and swimming back stroke for a few easy laps. He can tell Rin was right about it being a good stroke for a warm up, and Haru's feeling good by the time he spots Makoto walking in. He sits forward to get a better look, taking in Makoto's wet suit, hugging achingly close to his skin. It was a lot like the one he had worn when he helped Coach Sasabe in high school, just with different colors and long sleeves.

Makoto waves at Haru and Haru swims over to him. Makoto crouches down by the edge of the pool and waits for Haru to surface.

“The kids will be here soon, but if you stick to the lanes in the back you can just keep swimming,” he tells him. Haru nods. It wasn't like he really wanted to swim with strange children anyway.

“Nervous?” Haru asks him. Makoto blinks and laughs.

“Nope,” he says honestly. Haru smiles underwater.

“Good,” he says. Makoto smiles at him and the door to the locker room flies open as the first kid comes running in. Makoto stands up to face him and Haru dives back under and retreats back to his lanes. He spends the next two hours alternating between watching Makoto and his class and swimming on his own. The first time one of the kids calls Makoto “Coach Tachibana” his heart jumps in his throat. Makoto was practically glowing, and when one of the kids started splashing him he only laughs and splashes gently back before steering them back on topic.

Haru floats lazily on his back after he loses count of his laps. Makoto makes a great coach, and the kids are lucky to have him. They opened up to him right away, and by the time class is over, a couple of them hang off Makoto's legs and beg their parents to let them stay longer. Makoto talks with the parents while the kids change, and Haru watches, blowing bubbles in the water.

He's not sure when, but somethings been creeping up on him. It wasn't quite boredom- he didn't ever get bored of the water. It wasn't sadness either, he was proud watching Makoto with his students, and his heart was still warm and light from spending the day with him. It's something else, and he can't quite pin it down.

Finally, Makoto pads over to him and leans down to offer Haru a hand. Haru stares at it until Makoto tilts his head.

“You didn't swim,” he says. Makoto smiles.

“We don't do much on the first class,” he admits. Haru shakes his head.

“Not your class, you,” he says. Makoto blinks before he understands. The smile washes over his face and he straightens out before closing his eyes and jumping in. He surfaces with a little gasp and brushes his hair back with his palm.

“Alright, Haru. What are we swimming?” he asks. Haru grins at him.

“Shouldn't I ask you that, _Coach_?” he says. Makoto's eyes shoot wide and a laugh shakes out of him.

“Haru!” he yells. Haru gives him what he hopes is an innocent look and takes off, and he can hear when Makoto starts swimming after him. Haru chances a look behind him, and feels a little thrill at the sight of Makoto chasing after him in using the same stroke. _Ah_ , he thinks. _This_ is better. Haru is still faster, but it's never bothered Makoto. Haru lets Makoto pick the next stroke, and Makoto surprises him again and picks butterfly. Haru's impressed, Makoto's form has improved since high school and was nothing to laugh at. It's different from racing with Rin, there's no pressure to win. Instead, it's a calming familiarity Haru can't name. He's really swimming _with_ Makoto, and it's more comforting than Haru could have imagined.

Haru doesn't hide his disappointment when Makoto finally calls it a night. Makoto pulls himself out of the pool and offers his hand to Haru. Haru wonders if he could get away with another lap or three, but Makoto seems to read his mind and reminds him they have to go get Mariko. With a sigh, he takes Makoto's hand and lets him pull him up and out of the water.

Haru trudges to the locker room and rinses off. He watches Makoto out of the side of his eye as he bends and twists to get to the zipper on his back. Haru could help him and unzip it, but he decides against it. Makoto gets the zipper down with less difficulty than Haru had hoped for, and peels the suit down to pool around his hips while he towels off his head. Haru stares openly, and when Makoto turns to get into his bag he notices an angry purple bruise spread over Makoto's side. Haru's breath catches and he touches his fingers to it gently before he can think about it. Makoto startles and looks down where Haru's fingers brush the bruised skin, and when Haru looks up accusingly at him he smiles.

“It's nothing,” he says lightly. Haru jabs it with a finger and Makoto yelps.

“Okay, well it hurts when you do that!” he says. Haru pulls his fingers back.

“Is that from work?” he asks quietly. Makoto chews his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he says. Haru frowns. What happened to being safe?

“It happens Haru, it's not a big deal. I'm _fine_ ,” he says, emphasizing. Haru gives him a glare before toweling off his own hair.

“Be more careful,” he says, hiding behind the fabric. He can hear the smile in Makoto's voice anyway.

“I'll try,” Makoto says. Haru finishes changing first, stoutly ignoring the sound of Makoto's suit hitting the floor when he steps out of it. Haru leaves before he can do something embarrassing like _peek_ , and heads to pick up Mariko. She chirps when she sees him, and he hugs onto her while he waits in the lobby for Makoto. Makoto doesn't take long, and after brief goodbyes to the other staff, they're back outside heading to the truck.

Makoto clicks Mariko back into her car seat, and Haru stashes Makoto's bag on the floorboards of the passenger side. He hesitates with his, and after a moment closes the door softly and heads back to the driver's side.

“Haru?” Makoto asks when he sees Haru's still slung over his shoulder. Haru looks at his feet.

“I don't mind giving you a ride, come on,” Makoto says. Haru frowns at him. Haru can see the bags under his eyes, despite his tone. He shakes his head at him.

“Go home, go rest,” he says. Makoto frowns.

“I like the walk,” he says when Makoto opens his mouth to protest. A white lie, but not one he thinks will hurt him. Haru stares Makoto down until his head falls.

“Alright, I guess,” Makoto hedges. He's still looking for a way to convince Haru to let him give him a ride, Haru can tell.

“I'll see you in a few days,” he says. Makoto smiles slowly, his hands doing the abortive movement again. Haru tilts his head at them, and Makoto raises one and gently brushes a clump of Haru's damp bangs back into place. His hand is gone as softly and quickly as it came, and Haru nearly leans after it.

“Goodnight Haru-chan,” Makoto says warmly. Haru's heart squeezes against his ribs and he swallows hard. His face feels hot.

“Goodnight,” he says. Makoto doesn't look away, so Haru spins on his heel and starts walking towards the train station. Distantly he hears the truck rumble to life behind him, heading the opposite direction. It takes four blocks for his heart rate to fall back to normal, and he's waiting for his train at the station before he has his first clear thought that isn't reliving his day with Makoto.

He sinks into a bench and pulls out his phone. Nagisa had sent him a picture from Mariko's birthday, and Haru had set it as his wallpaper after he opened it a dozen times the first day he had it. Mariko's covered in chocolate frosting in the middle, surrounded by Makoto and all their friends. One of Makoto's eyes is squeezed shut as he wipes a smear of frosting off his cheek, but he's laughing anyway. Haru stares at him for a second before taking a deep breath and opening his messages.

 _'Rin,'_ he starts, hesitating. He takes another breath and sends the rest. _'how do I tell him?'_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I love you and I'm sorry about the kind of cliffhanger ending hahaha.......


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Makoto. I,” _like you._ Haru looks into Makoto's eyes, willing him to understand. _Why won't the words come?_ Makoto holds his gaze for a moment, and Haru can almost see him putting it together.
> 
> “Haru?” he asks. He sounds so young. Haru takes another small step forward through the water, and there is no where else for him to go.

The door makes a familiar chime as Haru pushes it open and inhales the heavy scent of sugar and raising dough. The Sucre Cafe smells as appetizing as ever, and Haru lets himself enjoy it, faint smile growing on his lips. The last time he had come was to buy his little offering of pastries before going to meet Makoto, and he'd missed the place.

“Haruka-kun!” a high pitched voice yells from behind the counter and Haru looks up to Mai's broad smile. He nods in acknowledgment and lets her go back to her customer. Her smile widens before she looks away. He wanders by the display case and peers inside. It was too late in the season for the pear tarts he sometimes ate, but he knew that before he came in.

The display case has an entire shelf devoted to various mochi, while underneath was filled with pastries and full sized cakes. The arrangement is a little different from the last time he'd been in, and it takes him a moment longer than it should to remember that Mai was probably gearing up for Christmas cake season. He knew as well as anyone what the next month and a half would be like as the orders start rolling in. _Too bad_ , he thinks. He always liked making the little pastries and petit fours more than large cakes. He hears the door chime behind him and Mai leans on the counter to talk to him.

“Haruka-kun, it's been a while!” she says. He nods a little sheepishly.

“We had a deal remember? You can't quit and never come visit me,” she complains.

“I remember,” he says, frowning. She tsks.

“I've been busy, sorry,” he adds.

“Busy? You?” she says in disbelief. Haru rolls his eyes.

“Yes, _busy_ ,” he says. She hums and gives him a moment to expand. He doesn't.

“Well, I know better than to ask. You look well enough so I won't worry about it,” she says, brushing at excess flour on her apron. Haru bites his lip, but he's not sure what to tell her.

“So you want a box or did you come for something _else_?” she asks, lowering her voice. Haru frowns at her and she leans farther down the counter. The cut of her shirt widens, revealing a peek of cleavage under her necklace.

“Want your job back? It won't cost you much,” she says, fluttering her dark eyelashes at him. Haru blinks at her.

“You look ridiculous,” he says. She freezes before choking on a laugh.

“I'll have you know that's worked before,” she says indignantly. Haru scoffs.

“Really,” he says, not questioning. She pulls a knot out of her blonde hair and eyes him.

“Why do I always fall for the cold, heartless types?” she says to herself, sighing.

“You're the only one who calls me that,” Haru points out. He doesn't think he's particularly cold _or_ heartless. Mai groans, and Haru suspects she mutters _'ice cold'_ under her breath.

“Well?” she prompts. Haru blinks at her, and is struck with an idea.

“Can I use the kitchen?” He asks before he can change his mind. Mai's eyes widen and stare before she blinks out of it.

“You.” She gapes at him. Haru looks away, trying to look disinterested.

“What, my baking isn't good enough for you anymore?” Mai asks, confused. Haru shakes his head.

“It's not that,” he says, trailing off. Mai was good enough to open her own bakery in her twenties, there was no sense in denying her skill. Haru didn't particularly care for sweets, but hers were easily his favorites. Mai rests her head in her hand and stares Haru down, clearly waiting for an explanation. Haru shifts his weight, unsure how to explain it.

“My kitchen is terrible,” he says stubbornly. That much was true. Mai hums but doesn't move, trying to read between the lines. She wasn't as good as Makoto at reading him, but she tries.

“Who are you baking for?” she asks suddenly. Haru's head jerks as he looks at her. Maybe she _was_ as good as Makoto. Almost.

“Knew it,” she says, smile spreading over her face. Haru looks away quickly, but the damage is done.

“So? Spill it,” Mai says, rubbing her hands together excitedly. Haru sighs, admitting his defeat.

“It's not like that,” he says.

“So what _is_ it like?” Haru looks at her. Mai is pretty, with gorgeous blonde hair and big eyes from her dad's side, and it was easy to forget how smart she really is.

“It's got to be something important if it's got the cold-hearted Haruka-kun in gear to bake something,” she says, teasing. It was also easy to forget how easily she would try to pry her way into his life.

“Just a friend,” he says dismissively. It surprises him how that almost hurts. It feels wrong, like he's reducing Makoto somehow. He frowns and tries to shrug it off.

“Is that so?” Mai says, softer this time. Haru nods without looking at her.

“What were you going to make?” Mai asks, straightening a display.

“Cake,” he says. Mai looks like she wants to reach across the counter and flick his forehead, and he appreciates the buffer.

“Cake.” She says, unimpressed. Haru feels warm.

“A birthday cake,” he says quietly. Mai's face freezes in surprise, and Haru politely looks away until she reigns it in.

“Well, I don't just let anyone into my kitchen, but you aren't just _anyone_ , so I could make an exception,” Mai says and Haru looks up at her. Mistake. Her eyes gleam, and Haru hears warning bells go off in the back of his mind. She had the same look when she suggested putting jalapeño peppers in cupcakes for April Fool's one year.

“But I have a condition,” she says.

“Of course you do,” Haru sighs. Mai grins widely, vaguely reminding him of Rin.

“I want to meet your _friend_ ,” she says. “And you seriously consider working here again, at least for the holidays.” Haru stares at her. She smiles innocently back at him. The door chimes and he's saved for the moment. She gives him a look that says this isn't over before greeting the new customer.

Haru considers it. It wasn't a bad trade. Makoto would probably love to come here anyway. But knowing Mai, she'd get more information out of Makoto in two minutes than she had gotten out of Haru in the years he had worked for her. He watches as a little boy picks out a pastry as his mother chats with Mai, feeling a little nostalgic. He won't admit it, but he kind of misses the place. Mai catches him watching, and he looks away when she winks at him. The boy and his mother buy their treats, and take a table in the window, and Mai comes back over to Haru. Mai takes a look at him and hides a giggle behind her hand.

“So when am I meeting them?” she asks. Haru frowns at her.

“Come on, I've never met any of your friends, it's not fair,” she says, face falling. Haru doesn't blink.

“You've met, uh, actually basically everyone I know. C _ome on,_ ” she complains. Haru shudders. He had even met her parents at some point.

“This is different,” he says, wavering.

“Different how?” she asks, not missing a beat. Haru chews his lip. He doesn't really have an argument, and she knows it.

“Promise me you'll behave,” he says quietly. Her eyes light up and Haru looks at his shoes.

“Of course! Best behavior!” she says, excited again.

“Then I can use the kitchen?” he asks. She nods enthusiastically.

“Anytime, your jacket is still in the back somewhere,” she says. Haru looks up at her at that. He had no idea she had kept it all this time.

“Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome, Haruka-kun! I meant it when I said you can come back anytime,” she says warmly. Haru glances at her.

“I'll think about it,” he says, light smile ghosting across his lips. Her eyes shine. He promises to come back soon, and she waves him off. He leaves empty handed but light-hearted, warmth of the bakery lingering on his clothes.

 

There was no way this would work. Haru moves out of the way when an older man tries to squeeze past him. Haru watches him go straight to the red roses, not an ounce of hesitation in his movements. Haru envies him. He could count the times he's been in a flower shop on one hand, but he's never felt as out of place as he does right now.

He's tucked between bouquets of roses and potted orchids, regretting even coming in. He's out of his depth here. The old man paws through a few bouquets before taking one full of red roses, accented with lacy baby's breath. Haru frowns at it. Way too sappy, he thinks. He takes a step back and nearly steps in a bucket of carnations.

He ducks out the door and pulls his phone out. The last message from Rin is still open, suggesting he try flowers. _'No flowers'_ he sends back. He walks to a bench and sits, frustrated. He's seen Makoto a couple of times since that night, but he still hasn't figured out how to broach it. Rin's been less than helpful, his suggestions all wildly romantic and way out of Haru's comfort zone. Flowers, he thought, might be okay, but the store had proved that idea a dead end too. They'd probably make Makoto sneeze anyway. Haru's phone chirps.

 _'Shit, can't you just tell him?'_ Haru frowns and rubs his temples. He tries to imagine it, and every scenario he can think of turns out with him awkwardly fumbling for the right words. He sighs deeply to himself, and leans back to stare at the clouds in the sky. He has to figure this out on his own.

 

“Ughh,” Rin groans under his breath at Haru's last text. He's grown to appreciate a healthy obstacle to work towards overcoming. It's good to have challenges, its what drives people, what moves them forward.

But trying to help Haru was like pulling teeth, and Rin has a deep distrust for dentists. Sousuke looks up from the bench and arches an eyebrow at him. Rin frowns and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Three more reps,” he says. He holds his hands out under the bar and Sousuke pushes it off the rack, grunting at the weight. Rin keeps his hands open and ready as Sousuke lowers the bar towards his chest and starts pushing up.

“You look annoyed,” Sousuke says. Rin smacks his arm back into place.

“You look distracted,” Rin says. “Your form is slacking.” Sousuke glances at him before fixing his arm and focusing on the weights again. He lifts it steadily, Rin's hands hovering close to his in case he needs to catch the bar. It reaches the top and Sousuke lets it rest in the cradle.

“Nanase again?” Sousuke guesses, taking a deep breath before taking the bar again.

“He's an idiot,” Rin sighs. Sousuke hums his agreement and Rin glares down at him.

“You can call him an idiot _after_ you can have a conversation with him,” he says. Sousuke doesn't look at him but his frown deepens.

“Don't want to,” Sousuke grunts, resting the bar again. Rin takes the opportunity to jab him in the ribs.

“Ow,” Sousuke says without inflection, rubbing at the spot and giving Rin a hurt look.

“Oh knock it off. Last rep, come on,” Rin says. Sousuke sighs and obediently takes the bar again, lowering it levelly. He starts to push, and Rin tilts his head.

“You're going to have to figure out how to get along anyway. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of him from now on,” Rin says. He's not really watching Sousuke, but staring past him. Sousuke lets the bar drop in the cradle with a clang and it makes Rin jump.

“Oi what-”

“What do you mean?” Sousuke interrupts. His tone kill the words in Rin's throat. Sousuke sits up on the bench and his eyes bore into Rin.

“Sousuke?” Rin asks, suddenly nervous.

“What aren't you telling me?” Sousuke asks. The intensity of Sousuke's gaze makes him look away. Rin watches a bead of sweat roll down the side of his neck into the collar of his shirt.

“It's nothing. Man, what's with you?” Rin laughs nervously and runs a hand through his hair, getting it caught on the tie. He pulls it out and tugs his hair back into a fresh pony, ignoring Sousuke. When he looks back, Sousuke is rubbing a towel over his face, expression watered down to thoughtful. Rin feels relieved, and he's not sure why.

“How's the shoulder?” he asks. Sousuke shrugs and moves his arm around, a practiced movement Rin knows is meant to stretch it.

“Probably better than yours,” Sousuke says. The towel is hiding his face, but Rin knows he's grinning beneath it.

“Ass. I'm in _perfect_ condition,” Rin says. He lifts his arms up and flexes, showing off his very nicely developed biceps, even if he has to be the one to say it. Sousuke snorts.

“You don't say,” Sousuke says slowly. His eyes go from his arms slowly up Rin's neck to his face. He throws the towel over his shoulder and grins at Rin. Rin shoves his arms back down to his sides, suddenly self-conscious.

“Whatever, you'd kill for a body like mine,” he says smugly. Sousuke smiles and stands up, facing Rin. Rin will never get over having to look up at him. Sousuke knocks their shoulders together.

“You're right,” he says, mouth close to Rin's ear. The sheen of sweat over Rin's body goes cold. Sousuke walks past him without another word, heading to the dip bars. Rin's glad his back is turned, because he can feel himself blushing. What the hell? This was just _Sousuke_ , for fuck's sake.

“Ass!” he yells. He can hear Sousuke laugh behind him.

 

“It's your turn, Hajime-kun!” Makoto calls. Haru watches from his side of the pool as a young boy takes a flying leap off the edge of the pool into Makoto's waiting arms. Makoto catches him easily, letting him barely crash into the water before hoisting him up to the cheers of his classmates.

Haru thinks Makoto's class must be nearly over since he always caves and does something fun with the kids for the last bit. Haru doesn't remember which kid said they wanted to try diving, but he thinks Makoto's compromise is a good one. They still get the thrill of jumping into the water but without any real danger. Haru's watched them learn, but they still weren't ready to swim on their own.

Makoto walks Hajime to the steps and makes sure he doesn't slip getting out before wading back out for the next child to take the jump. Almost everyone has gone at least once, and the whole class looks eager for their turns or hopeful for enough time to jump again. Even so, Haru can see at least one who doesn't look as enthusiastic as the rest.

“Hina-chan, you're next,” Makoto says gently. He's closer to the edge for her than he was for Hajime. Hina shifts and Haru easily recognizes it. She doesn't look anything like Makoto, but the gesture was uncanny. Haru can't see Makoto's face, and it unnerves him.

“Hina-chan, it's okay, Coach will catch you,” one of the students say and Haru smiles under the water. “He caught all of us!”

“Yeah! It's fun, it's fun!” another adds, practically bouncing. Hina looks at them timidly, another look Haru recognizes.

“Really? It's fun?” she asks the other students faintly. They nod encouragingly. Makoto hasn't lowered his arms, standing like a statue while she gathers her courage. She looks shyly at him, embarrassment tinting her face.

“You promise you'll catch me?” she asks. Makoto takes a step closer and offers her his pinky finger.

“Promise,” he says, tilting his head in a way that Haru knows accompanies a smile. Hina's face lights up and she eagerly wraps her pinky around his. Satisfied, Makoto steps back and holds out his arms again. Hina squeezes her eyes shut and jumps.

Makoto, of course, catches her. She breaks out in peals of giggles, and Makoto laughs with her. The class joins in, shouting encouragements from the edge. Makoto hefts her back to the lip of the pool and congratulates her while her friends surround her.

Haru rolls over and heads back down his lane. He doesn't watch the rest of the children jump, although he peeks over from time to time. He feels warm, and his chest is tight. He swims lazily, mind elsewhere. Makoto was _good_ , in the purest sense of the word. Seeing him like this makes him hopeful that maybe he hasn't changed so much that Haru can't reach him.

This is the same Makoto he knew in high school, in elementary school. This was still the Makoto he remembers before he remembers anything else. They were figuring each other out all over again, and maybe this time-

Haru cuts himself off, grasping at the wall of the pool abruptly. He stubbornly refuses to let the thought take hold, and instead flips over and dives under, propelling himself down the lane just above the floor of the pool. He keeps it up, breaking the surface only for air and pushing himself to stay under as long as he can, distracting. He would have kept going, but Makoto is waiting for him on the edge by the fourth, maybe fifth lap. Makoto smiles at him and Haru doesn't care what lap he was on.

“It's really not good to go so long underwater like that,” Makoto says lightly. Haru stares at him, and lets himself sink until the water covers the bottom half of his face. Makoto laughs and slumps his shoulders.

“Honestly! If you're trying to increase your lung capacity that's the wrong way. There are breathing exercises and... Oh,” Makoto trails off and frowns at him, his head falling slightly to one side. Haru picks his face up enough to speak.

“Relax, _Coach_ ,” he says, not bothering to hide the grin on his face. Makoto laughs and lets himself fall into the water, waves rolling around Haru.

“Anyone ever tell you you shouldn't pick on people bigger than you?” Makoto says, breaking the surface in front of Haru. Haru quirks his head.

“Yes.” Makoto's face goes wide before falling back into a smile.

“You _little,”_ he starts. Haru doesn't stick around to find out what the rest is, flipping around and swimming down the pool. Makoto, surprisingly, goes after him, so Haru picks up his pace. Makoto doesn't often bother trying to race, but if it's a race he wants, it's a race he gets.

When they make the turn, Haru has a solid lead. He's been fooled before, so he doesn't slow down. Haru can feel the strength in Makoto's kick from his own lane, and there's a wild moment where Haru thinks Makoto could actually overtake him. Makoto has a presence behind him, and Haru pushes himself to touch the wall first.

Unfortunately for Makoto, Haru was speed and flexibility while Makoto was built for strength and stamina. Makoto slams his hand against the wall several full seconds after Haru, but he comes up laughing as always. Haru watches him shake the water out of his hair and pull his goggles down, still in awe.

“You still shouldn't pick on people,” Makoto says. Haru huffs.

“I'll just swim away. Rin's the only one who can catch me,” he says shrugging. Makoto doesn't take the bait.

“In that case, lets try my back against your freestyle?” Makoto says. Haru arches an eyebrow at that. That sounded, kind of..

 _Fun._  Unusual, but fun.

“Okay,” he says. He pulls himself out and onto a block, and Makoto pulls himself up into his own starting position. Haru crouches down stiffly, suddenly aware of how close they are. Makoto grins and lets his head hang back on his shoulders.

“800 meters?” he asks. Haru scoffs.

“Don't joke about the water,” he says. Makoto shakes his head.

“200?” he says. Haru mulls it over.

“200,” he agrees, tensing up. Makoto pulls himself up a little tighter and nods. Haru flies and Makoto launches into the water on the next breath, an unusual synchronization that thrills Haru anyway. The water parts and pulls around him, Makoto keeping close behind him. Haru pulls ahead and makes the turn first, but he doesn't have any time to celebrate. The second lap starts, and Haru forgets all about pacing himself when he catches sight of Makoto's arms out of the corner of his eye.

He makes the second turn first as well, but he can tell Makoto's gained on him. Two laps and one turn left. He feels like electricity, and wonders if Makoto feels the same. The third turn is on him before he realizes, and he feels a shock down his spine when Makoto's shadow covers his.

He puts everything into the last lap, going as hard as he ever has against Rin. Every time he faces the lane on his left, Makoto is closer. The head start Haru built up in the beginning is all but gone, and his body burns with the effort to stay ahead. Makoto is relentless behind him, seconds shaved into fractions. Haru closes in on on the wall and stretches with everything he has.

He breaks the surface and gasps for breath, blood still rushing in his ears. Makoto is next to him, breathing just as hard. Haru snaps his goggles off and tosses them towards the edge, and peeks over at Makoto. Makoto's head is thrown back as he catches his breath, but there's still a smile on his face. Haru watches him recover, his own breath still stilted.

Makoto catches him looking and smiles brighter, and for once Haru doesn't feel like looking away. He realizes in a rush that he wants Makoto to _keep_ smiling at him, for as long as he can imagine. The blood keeps rushing in his ears, refusing to die down.

“Good job, Haru,” Makoto says. Haru nods mutely, having barely heard him.

“Man, I haven't raced like that in a long time,” Makoto says. He stretches his arms up above his head and Haru dips beneath the lane dividers to get closer. He's always better in water, maybe water was the answer to this too.

“Makoto,” he says. Makoto leans over to one side, still stretching.

“Hm?” he says. Haru takes another step closer.

“Makoto, there's something..” Haru's throat closes up. Makoto's smile falls away into concern and that's _wrong._ He doesn't want to worry him, he wants the opposite.

“Makoto. I,” _like you._ Haru looks into Makoto's eyes, willing him to understand. _Why won't the words come?_ Makoto holds his gaze for a moment, and Haru can almost see him putting it together.

“Haru?” he asks. He sounds so young. Haru takes another small step forward through the water, and there is no where else for him to go. He can't breathe. Makoto's hand drips water as he raises it. Haru can count the drops.

“Makoto.” Makoto's hand moves in slow motion towards Haru.

“Tachibana! Are you just about done in here?” Someone yells from the door, and Makoto's hand falls back in the pool with a splash. His face is red as he turns to them. Haru feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“Ah sorry!” he calls. Haru slumps in the water, glaring at the intruder. He recognizes her as one of the people who work in the daycare part of the pool, but it does little to placate him. Makoto laughs awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck.

“I'm sorry Haru, I need to go get Mariko,” he says. Haru glares at him too. Makoto frowns at him.

“I'm really sorry,” Makoto says. Haru knows he means it and he can't even bring himself to be mad about it. He's suddenly too exhausted to bother. He waves Makoto off.

“Go on. I'll be right behind you,” he says. Makoto looks at him for a second, before nodding.

“Alright,” he says. He hesitates, before blinking himself out of it and climbing out of the pool. Haru watches him walk up to the stranger and walk out with her. He eases out onto his back and floats, frustrated.

He had been so close.

 

By the time Haru drags himself out of the pool and into the locker room, Makoto is already changed and toweling off his hair, Mariko in his lap. She tugs on Makoto's shirt and chirps at the sight of Haru, and it makes him feel a little better when Makoto looks up and smiles at him.

“Sorry Haru. I lost track of time,” he says. Haru shakes his head dismissively.

“Let me change and we can go,” he says, looking away.

“Okay. I'll wait in the lobby,” Makoto says. He stands and shifts Mariko in his arms before slinging his bag over his shoulder. Haru watches him go, and thumps his head against his locker when he hears the door close behind him. He strips out of his jammers and rinses them under the tap. He towels off and changes mechanically, mind replaying the last few minutes over and over.

Makoto is playing with Mariko when he walks into the lobby later, all but the auxiliary lights off. Makoto smiles at him and Mariko coos, and Haru fluffs up her hair. Makoto says goodbye to the remaining staff and heads out, holding the door for Haru. Haru follows him around to the driver's side of the truck, and leans against the side as Makoto straps Mariko in her car seat.

“Sorry we got interrupted earlier, was there something you wanted to say?” Makoto asks casually. Haru swallows a lump in his throat and looks away.

“It's nothing,” he says. He tries for just as casual. He doesn't think he succeeds. He can feel Makoto watching him, and when he glances back he catches a serious look on Makoto's face before it warms into a hollow smile.

“Forget it,” Haru says, annoyed at himself. That wasn't Makoto's real smile, and he's to blame.

“...Alright,” Makoto says carefully. Haru hates it.

“I'm going home first,” he says, leaning away from the truck and taking a step towards the way to the train. Makoto straightens himself out of the cab.

“I can give you a ride,” he says. “It's no trouble.”

“Next time,” he says with a shrug. He doesn't think he could handle an awkward car ride to Iwatobi right now.

“Well... If you're sure,” Makoto says, hedging. Haru nods.

“Goodnight Makoto,” he says. Makoto smiles at him, and it's a little better this time.

“Okay. Goodnight Haru,” he says. Haru turns around before he can change his mind and starts walking. He doesn't see the disappointment in Makoto's eyes as he watches him walk away.

 

Makoto watches Haru walk away, sinking feeling in his gut. He was so sure Haru was about to tell him something important in the pool, and he desperately wants to be the person Haru can open up to again. He thought they had been making progress, but maybe it was just his wishful thinking. Haru certainly seemed happier than that first day he had shown up in Makoto's driveway, but Makoto was well aware that his optimism sometimes blinded him. The dull sense of not being enough throbs in the back of his mind, and he stomps it down before it can rear it's ugly head.

Haru takes a corner and is out of sight, and for a wild moment Makoto thinks about chasing after him. He likes driving Haru home. It reminds him of them in high school, where they would always walk home together, and he misses that. Mariko babbles from her car seat and he pulls himself out of it. He sighs and slips into his seat, closing the door behind him. He wraps an arm around the seat to twist and see Mariko. She's chewing on a finger and Makoto smiles at her.

“Let's go home Mariko. It's past our dinner time, isn't it?” he asks, gently pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“Dadda aba!” she says. Makoto smiles and laughs. He can't get over it. He ruffles her hair before turning back around and clicking his seat belt on.

“You're right,” he says. Makoto turns the key in the ignition and Mariko growls her imitation of the engine. By the time he's pulling out of the parking lot, he's growling and grumbling right along with her.

 

Haru walks home slowly. His feet drag against the sidewalk, and feel like lead mounting the stairs to his apartment. He opens his door and steps inside, closing it by leaning back against it. He doesn't bother turning his lights on. His bag falls with a heavy _thump_ next to him. How could he have messed even that up? Since when did it become so difficult to just speak his mind?

He groans and slumps down on the ground. And then he had snapped at Makoto and run away when he got a second chance. He was an idiot. All week he had been trying to find a way, and when one turned up on a platter he stuck his foot in it. He hits his head against the door. He has to figure this out, he has to do _something._

He gets himself to his feet and doesn't bother changing as he digs around for a fresh towel. He hangs his jammers up and heads out to the local bath house. Despite spending the evening in the pool, he still needs more, and he hopes a long soak will help him.

It's late enough that there aren't many others at the bath, and Haru is glad for it. He washes himself off and quickly heads to the hot water, taking a seat in a corner far from the other occupant and leans his head back against the wood edge. His skin turns bright pink from the heat, and his muscles relax into it. He can feel himself unwind as the tension soaks out of him. He sighs into it, soft sounds of water soothing him.

When he notices he's the only one left in the bath he decides it's probably time to leave. He sloshes out of the tub and dries off, and nods to the bath house keeper when he leaves. He feels better, calmer. He walks down the street towards his apartment and enjoys the twilight floating down around the town.

His phone chirps at him, and when he digs it out of his bag his heart sinks at the number of missed messages. He walks slower as he reads through them.

_'Hey Haru, did you make it home okay?'_

_'It's a nice night isn't it? Mariko just doesn't want to go to sleep'_

_'I had a lot of fun swimming with you tonight, I'm sorry I pushed you afterwards'_

_'ah, mariko finally fell asleep_ _(_ _︶▽︶_ _)_ _'_

_'I'm going to bed, you should too!'_

Haru stops in the middle of the street, and smiles. Makoto was probably getting himself worked up, so Haru texts him back quickly before he keeps walking. _'I was in the bath'_ he sends.

Makoto's reply comes almost instantly. _'haha of course you were! Glad you made it back'_ Haru's on the stairs now, climbing slowly. His limbs still feel wrong out of water. He unlocks his door and steps inside, flicking on the light as he goes. _'sorry. I had fun too,'_ he sends. He leaves his shoes at the entrance and heads to his kitchen. He checks his rice machine, and digs around in his fridge for something for dinner.

 _'me too!_ _^o^ next time lets try 400m!'_ Haru laughs and shakes his head. _'you just want an advantage'_ he sends. _'there's nothing wrong with playing to your strengths'_ Makoto sends. Haru can see the pout. _'fine. you're right'_ he settles on niratama and rice for dinner and gets to work slicing his chives. His phone stays quiet as he whisks his eggs together, and he wonders if Makoto fell asleep. He's scraping his pan onto a plate when it finally chirps again. He turns off his burner and sits down before opening the message.

 _'want to come over tomorrow for a bit? There's something I want to show you'_ Haru's chopsticks stop half way to his mouth. He messages back before he can think about it. _'of course'_ Haru chews slowly and waits. _Show him?_ _'great! I really am going to bed now, goodnight Haru!'_ Haru swallows his bite and takes another.

“Goodnight Makoto,” he says.

 

To Haru's surprise and mild annoyance, the time Makoto invites him over isn't until the afternoon. It gives him way too much time to think. He has no idea what Makoto could want to show him, but the thought makes him excited and nervous at the same time. He finds himself puttering around his apartment, aimlessly cleaning as he counts down the hours.

His apartment is spotless and he still has over an hour before he needs to catch his train. He groans and drags a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous. It would be like every other time he had visited Makoto. Wouldn't it? Haru's fingers tap against his sides. _Ridiculous._

Somehow, he makes it through. He brings a book with him, but can't concentrate long enough to get through a whole page on his train ride. He's got too much energy, and no outlet. He wishes he could swim. When he gets to his station he almost collides with a stranger in his haste to leave. He bows his apology and hastily flees. The fresh air helps, and he takes a deep lungful before heading in the direction of Makoto's house, ignoring the bus stop. Today, he really does want the walk.

By the time he makes it to Makoto's neighborhood, he's excited again, but he feels like he can manage it now. He's decided, for the hundredth time, that he'll tell him. Somehow, he'll make a moment and he won't back down. He can do it.

His confidence in his plan stutters when he sees a familiar black car backed into Makoto's driveway, with no sign of Makoto's truck. He eyes it suspiciously as he walks up to the door. He checks his phone, but he hasn't gotten the time wrong. He was even a couple minutes early. His glare reflects on the paint, and Haru spins around and opens the door.

He can hear Makoto talking in the other room and it helps him relax immediately. Haru wonders if he should have knocked. A loud clanging sound followed by deep laughter makes him cringe. So Yamazaki _is_ here. He creeps towards the living room. Makoto and Yamazaki are sitting on the couch while Mariko plays with what looks like a miniature drum set on the rug. Haru recognizes it as one of her birthday gifts.

“Hey Haru!” Makoto says, noticing him first. Haru nods at him. Makoto elbows Yamazaki until he looks up and acknowledges him too.

“Hey,” he says impassively. Haru returns the sentiment with another nod.

“Sorry. I'm early,” he says, but Makoto waves him off before he's even finished.

“It's fine, honestly you could have come earlier if you wanted to,” Makoto says easily. Haru frowns at him. If he had known that he wouldn't have wandered around his apartment all morning.

“It's about time for me to go anyway,” Yamazaki tells Makoto, back to ignoring Haru.

“Yeah, alright. Sure you don't want to take the drums?” Makoto asks with a smile and Yamazaki returns it.

“Nah, that's your own personal hell. I couldn't intrude,” he says. Haru stands awkwardly, left out of the conversation. He doesn't care for it. He kneels down to Mariko and holds out his hand when she offers him a drum stick. He spins it around on his finger and her eyes go wide.

“You can call me if anything happens,” Makoto says. Haru catches Yamazaki rolling his eyes.

“I'll have Rin with me, you think he'd let anything happen to her?” Yamazaki says and Makoto laughs. They get to their feet, towering over Mariko and Haru.

“He'd cry more than you, guaranteed,” Yamazaki says. Haru looks away, never sure how to react when he finds himself secretly agreeing with him.

“Well, let's aim for no one crying this time?” Makoto says. Yamazaki hums his agreement. Haru notices Mariko's baby bag in the hall, blankets folded neatly on top and starts to piece it together. Was he getting time with Makoto, without Mariko? What on earth could Makoto want to show him without Mariko?

Sousuke slings the bag over his shoulder and Makoto kneels down next to Haru to take Mariko. Haru makes eye contact with him and asks, letting his confusion play in his eyes. Makoto smiles warmly at him and lets Mariko climb into his arms. He stands to follow Yamazaki out, and nods his head for Haru to join him. _Wait and see,_ his face says.

Makoto's car seat looks out of place tucked into the dark leather interior of Yamazaki's car, and Haru feels strange watching Makoto strap Mariko into it. Yamazaki closes the trunk and heads back around to the front of the car when Makoto suddenly jerks up straight.

“Oh! Oh man I almost forgot, hang on!” he says before running back inside. He leaves the door open as he goes. Yamazaki and Haru are left alone with only Mariko's faint murmurings and a couple of paces between them. Yamazaki looks down on him and frowns, and Haru looks away, eager for Makoto to return. A moment drags into two, and the pressure is deafening.

“Just what are you planning, Nanase?” Yamazaki asks him, voice cold. Haru looks up at him.

“It's none of your business,” he says. The scene was too familiar to Haru, but this time he's ready to speak up for himself. Yamazaki takes a step forward and looms over Haru, eyes piercing into him.

“If it has to do with my _friends_ , it is exactly my business,” he says. Haru swallows. He wasn't ready for the level of conviction. He stares back unflinchingly.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he says. Yamazaki stares at him for a long moment before speaking.

“I want you to think long and hard about how it's going to affect Makoto before you do something stupid,” Sousuke says, intense eyes glaring down at him. Haru glares right back at him.

“What do _you_ know?” he asks, breath hissing through his teeth. A heated silence drags on and neither of them back down.

“I know that out of everyone Makoto knows, you can hurt him the most.” Yamazaki's voice is deep, and Haru feels like he's been kicked in the throat. It hits him that Yamazaki is talking from experience, and Haru's eyes widen in realization while Yamazaki's narrow from understanding.

“Do that to him again and I will bury you,” Yamazaki says calmly.

“I'm not afraid of you,” Haru says. It comes out barely over a whisper. Yamazaki smiles.

“Found it!” Makoto yells triumphantly from inside, and Yamazaki holds Haru's gaze for a second longer before dropping it in favor of turning towards the door. Makoto runs back outside, stuffed kangaroo in one hand.

“Here, you can't leave without Roo-san,” Makoto says seriously. He holds it to Mariko and she grabs it eagerly, holding it tight against herself. Yamazaki laughs easily, like he hadn't just threatened Haru. Haru takes a step back, taking deep, silent breaths.

“Thanks mom,” Yamazaki says poking at Mariko's cheek.

“Dadda!” she says and Yamazaki feigns a dramatic defeat.

“Overruled by a baby, I deserve better than this,” he says. Makoto laughs and pets Mariko's hair. He glances up at Haru and frowns. Haru's fists clench at his sides.

“You okay Haru?” Makoto asks, head dipping to the side. Yamazaki watches him from behind Makoto, expression closed off.

“Fine,” Haru says. Yamazaki's phone rings.

“Alright, we're out of here,” he says. Makoto pulls his eyes away from Haru and leans in to kiss the top of Mariko's head.

“Thanks Sousuke.” he says. “I'll see you in the morning.” Yamazaki closes the back door and wraps an arm around Makoto.

“Yeah. Be safe,” he tells Makoto. Makoto hugs him back and Haru looks away. Makoto takes a step back to stand next to Haru as Yamazaki guns his engine to life and Makoto waves them off. A breeze picks up and blows straight through Haru. When he peeks up at Makoto he's met with Makoto's green eyes watching him.

“Are you sure you're alright?” He says before Haru can turn away. Haru nods and looks at his feet.

“I'm fine. Just cold,” he lies. Makoto frowns but accepts his excuse, nodding back towards the house.

“Let's go back inside. I'm almost ready for us to go anyway,” he says. Haru follows him in.

“Go where?” he hedges. Makoto flashes him a mischievous smile.

“I told you I'd make it up to you when I had to go to that fire, right?” Makoto says.

“I guess?” Haru says. Makoto smiles and opens the door to the garage, stepping inside before answering. Haru follows curiously. Makoto flips on the lights and Haru's eyes go wide.

The clutter is mostly cleared away and pushed against the back wall, making a wide space around Makoto's motorcycle, which is uncovered and looks freshly washed. A metal pan underneath is filled with a dark liquid and when the smell hits him a moment later Haru identifies it as motor oil.

“I was letting it drain, but it looks done now. I still need to change the filter and fill it back up with oil obviously but...” Makoto looks over at Haru and smiles and Haru is seeing him for the first time all over again. Makoto bends down and scoops a box off the ground, pulling something black and bulky out.

“Want to go for a ride?” Makoto asks, offering a helmet out to Haru. Haru takes it mutely, staring. He opens his mouth and nothing comes out.

“Yeah,” he says after his second try. Makoto smiles and runs a hand through his hair.

“We can get dinner after, if you want,” Makoto says.

“Yeah,” Haru says. He groans internally. Makoto just smiles and nods.

“Alright, give me a couple minutes to finish this up,” he says, turning back to his bike. Haru watches him in fascination as he crouches down and grabs a tool from an open tool box nearby and wrenches a nut off the side of the machine. He sets the nut down and pulls out a spring, washer and a small tube shaped screen. Haru's crouching down right next to him when Makoto looks back up and smiles at him.

“How do you know all of this?” Haru asks quietly, hugging his helmet to his chest. Makoto grabs an aerosol can and starts spraying the screen off.

“I told you a friend gave it to me, right?” Makoto starts, turning the screen in his hand, quick blasts of whatever was in the can cleaning it off. Haru nods.

“Well, you actually met him. Remember Tatsumi?” Makoto shakes the screen off, and starts to press it back in the tube it came out of. _Tatsumi._ Of course Haru remembers. Haru chews on his lip and watches Makoto carefully replace the washer and spring before tightening the nut back over the whole thing.

“I heard...” Haru stops himself. Did he really want to bring this up? Makoto looks at him curiously and waits patiently.

“You dated?” he says finally. He doesn't like how the words fit in his mouth. Makoto's eyes go wide for a fraction of a second before he laughs.

“Yeah. Yeah we did, but that was years and years ago. We're just friends now,” he says. He grabs a little cardboard box and pulls a short canister out of it. Haru has a thousand questions but he chews on all of them. Makoto unscrews the cap off a new bottle of oil and pours a little on his fingers before running it over the lip of the canister.

“We were friends before, too. He loves cars, motorcycles; anything with an engine. I started just handing him tools and stuff when I hung out with him, and before I knew it I had actually learned a lot,” Makoto says fondly. He shifts to lay on the ground, and reaches up under the bike and Haru can see where the canister must go. Makoto runs an oiled finger over the edge there too, before screwing the canister on with his clean hand.

“I can see that,” Haru says. Makoto smiles and reaches for another nut, not quite with in his reach. Haru hands it to him and Makoto laughs.

“See? That's how it starts, and before you know it you're riding motorcycles at two in the morning and waiting for tools to go on sale,” Makoto says, screwing the nut on a pipe Haru can't quite see from his angle. He frowns.

“Two in the morning?” he asks. Makoto sits up and shrugs. He wipes his face, leaving a black grease mark under one eye. Haru swallows and looks away. Makoto digs through his tool box and lies back down with a socket wrench to finish tightening.

“It wasn't always that late,” he says, back under the bike. Haru shakes his head. He sits back on the floor next to Makoto and lets him work. Makoto's comfortable like this, covered in grease and laying on a garage floor. Haru wouldn't have believed it a year ago. Makoto had changed, but he hadn't lost what made him undeniably _Makoto_. He hadn't lost an ounce of what Haru liked about him.

Haru's breath catches and he snaps his eyes to the manta ray stickers on the side of the gas tank. Yamazaki's voice echoes in his head; _I want you to think long and hard about how it's going to affect Makoto before you do something stupid. Was_ he being stupid?

Lost in his thoughts he nearly runs into Makoto when he slides out from under the bike to stand up. Makoto smiles in apology and positions the bike so it's leaning on one side on the kickstand. Haru watches as Makoto unscrews a cap on the side and puts a funnel in the tube before grabbing his bottle of oil from earlier.

“Was it scary?” he asks. Makoto turns to him, holding the bottle as a steady stream of oil pours into the reserve.

“Was what scary?” he asks. Haru looks down at the helmet in his arms. _Growing up without me_ , he thinks.

“Riding a motorcycle,” he says instead. He can feel Makoto's eyes on him, faint _glug_ of the oil in the background.

“I was a little nervous the first time I drove one but.. I wasn't scared,” Makoto says. Haru watches him toss the empty bottle towards a bin and grab a new one. He twists the cap off and smiles at Haru.

“You'll see,” he says. Haru frowns and looks away. He wasn't scared either; Makoto was a good driver, and Haru trusts him. He plays with the visor on his helmet while Makoto drains the next bottle into the bike. Haru looks back when Makoto takes the funnel out. He wipes his hands on his jeans before screwing the cap back on and righting the bike.

“Can you see the little window there? It looks sort of like a level?” Makoto asks, pointing to the side of the bike. Haru crouches forward to see what he's talking about and nods.

“Okay, that gauges the oil level, but I have to stand the bike up level to get a good reading. Tell me how full it gets when I hold it upright, okay?” Makoto says.

“Okay,” Haru says. Makoto swings a leg over the seat and pulls the bike until it balances on its wheels, and Haru watches the oil in the window drop down as it settles into the tank.

“How are we looking?” Makoto asks. Haru thinks Makoto looks good on a motorcycle with oil on his face, but he can't say that.

“Maybe... Three quarters full?” he says. Makoto nods and dismounts.

“Just a little more then,” he says, easing the bike back down to top it off.

“This is how it starts?” Haru asks. Makoto laughs.

“This is how it starts. You'll be replacing coolant in no time,” he says. Haru frowns.

“Too messy,” he says. Makoto seems to notice the grease on his jeans for the first time and Haru snorts at the face he makes.

“You learn to love it,” he protests. Haru turns away. If he only knew.

“That should be good,” Makoto says to himself, screwing the cap back on the oil tank. Haru shifts his weight. He's starting to feel anxious. It's sinking in that he's going to ride on that thing, with nothing between him and the road except Makoto's driving and a helmet. Makoto steps back and wipes his hands off on a towel already stained with grease. He looks Haru over and frowns.

“Come on, let's find you something a little sturdier,” he says. He heads towards the door inside and Haru sets his helmet down to follow. Makoto leads him to a closet in the hall, and opens it to reveal a couple of jackets and coats hanging within. Haru blinks at them as Makoto flips through them. Makoto pulls out a well worn brown leather jacket and tosses it at him and Haru catches it reflexively. It's heaver than it looks, and Haru can feel stiff plating sewn into it. He holds it awkwardly away from his body and stares at Makoto's back as he fumbles around in the closet. Makoto turns back with a second jacket and laughs at the look on Haru's face.

“Put it on,” he says. Haru stares pointedly at the flimsier canvas jacket in Makoto's hands. Makoto grins and puts it on, zipping it up as if to seal the matter.

“Don't look at me like that, I only have one riding jacket and you've never even been on a bike,” he says. Haru pinches his lips.

“What if we fall?” he says. Makoto smiles wider.

“I only have one because they're not cheap. It's _armored_ ,” he says. He takes it from Haru and holds it open for him.

“And, we won't fall.” Makoto sounds sure of himself. Haru stares at him stubbornly.

“Are you getting cold feet now?” Makoto asks, sounding more amused than curious. Haru huffs and snatches the jacket back from him. It was big enough to shove his arms through without taking his windbreaker off, so he does.

“Hardly,” he says gruffly. Makoto beams. Haru makes the mistake of inhaling and is hit with Makoto's scent mingled with the leather from his coat, and he turns abruptly on his heel back to the garage. How could something so subtle be so comforting and exciting at the same time?

“Grab the helmets?” Makoto says following him back to the garage. Haru grabs his and finds a second one nearby, and takes them both as Makoto switches the garage door open and rolls his bike out into the driveway. He ducks back in to close it behind them. Makoto pulls his keys out of his jeans and without preamble starts the engine. Haru swallows down a lump in his throat. He's never been this close to a running motorcycle, and he half expects a neighbor to stick their head out a window and complain about the noise. Makoto laughs and Haru barely hears it over the engine.

“Ready?” he says, raising his voice and leaning in closer to Haru. His eyes are gleaming, and Haru can feel the nerves prick in his stomach. He was doing this. He can worry about if he should tell Makoto about his _feelings_ later. He nods and steps towards Makoto. Makoto takes his helmet from him and sets it on the seat when Haru only stares at his.

“Here,” Makoto says. He takes Haru's helmet and gently snugs it over Haru's head, and Haru freezes in place. Makoto's warm hands brush his neck, adjusting the straps before snapping them in place. Haru wonders if Makoto can feel his pulse spike. Makoto takes a step back, inspecting his work. He reaches out and grabs the top of Haru's helmeted head, wiggling it and, by extension Haru, around. Haru tries for a glare, but he isn't sure Makoto can see it through his visor.

“Nervous?” Makoto says, laughing. Haru shakes his head quickly, and _definitely_ glares at him this time. Makoto flips Haru's visor up to look him in the eyes.

“It's okay to be nervous, Haru.” Makoto says, and Haru pointedly looks away. Makoto picks his helmet off the seat and puts it on with practiced ease, flipping his own visor up as well.

“Just hang on and you'll be fine,” he says smiling. Haru snaps his visor down before he can blush, and nods. Makoto gives him one last smile before snapping his visor down and patting Haru on the back reassuringly. Haru feels it through the plate over his spine and shivers. Makoto swings a leg over the seat and holds his hand out to Haru. Haru hesitates for a second before gingerly taking it and swinging his leg up and over the rumbling seat behind Makoto.

Makoto waits for Haru to settle in the seat before gently taking his hand away and turning back to the front. Haru tries to keep a respectable distance between them, but he doesn't know what to do with his hands. The bike rumbles beneath him and to Haru it feels like it's growling at his intrusion.

Makoto leans forward slightly, and they're moving. Haru clenches the sides of the seat, fear spiking through him as they pick up speed down the road. He knows in the back of his mind that they can't be going very fast, they were still in sight of Makoto's house after all, but the ground seems to go by so quickly. It was totally different from riding in a car. Makoto eases into a halt at a stop, and Haru isn't sure if he should put a foot on the ground like Makoto does. Makoto takes off again before he can decide.

Haru relaxes by increments as they wind through Makoto's neighborhood. His knuckles are white from holding onto the seat, but he doesn't feel nauseous and he'll count that as a win. The area gets more and more unfamiliar the more comfortable he gets, but he doesn't really mind.

Until he spots a highway entrance sign, and Makoto leans towards it. Makoto picks up speed gradually, and at some point the distance between them vanishes. He's flush behind Makoto now, but his hands stubbornly remain at his sides. Makoto leans forward and Haru is pulled with him. The engine roars as it shifts gears, Haru's yelp lost to the wind as his hands shoot up around Makoto's sides. They were going fast now, fast enough that Haru squeezes his eyes shut.

Makoto leans to merge onto the highway, and Haru doesn't dare look. He wraps his arms tight around Makoto, squeezing himself into his back. Makoto was solid and sure, and Haru can feel that he's not tense at all as he hurls them down the road. He can only hear the wind and his heartbeat hammering in his ears, so he stays like that, trusting Makoto to keep them safe.

He doesn't know how long he's frozen in place, but at some point Makoto takes a hand off the handle bar and squeezes Haru's arm reassuringly. Haru's head is pressed tight against Makoto's shoulder blades, and he doesn't make any attempt to move. Makoto tugs his sleeve, and slowly Haru opens his eyes and looks where Makoto directs him.

The sea rolls by their left, sparkling and perfect in the fading sunlight. Haru's mouth falls open, and he's glad his helmet is closed. He doesn't look down, only out. The colors hit him all at once, cascading over his eyes. It's one of the most beautiful things Haru's ever seen. Makoto shifts in his arms, and in a rush it hits him. Makoto had planned this. _I'm the same, I still understand you_ , it says. He feels flushed and hot. Makoto had planned the whole thing, and now he was in Haru's arms. _I'm here._

Haru loves him.

As easily as if it had never left him, Haru understands. He squeezes his arms tighter around Makoto and leans into him, eyes never leaving the sea. He had always loved him, hadn't he?

He's warm. His face is blush hot and his body feels like it's on fire, the cool wind blowing over his knuckles a soothing contrast. The rush of understanding overwhelms him and he surprises even himself when he starts laughing. He can't remember laughing like this, loud and unguarded his voice lost in the roar of the wind. Things start falling into place, and years of frustration are starting to burn off like early morning fog.

It was the same contentment he used to get from swimming, before it had lost it's meaning. But it was softer somehow, familiar. Like a finding a favorite blanket he had thought lost on a chilly day. His anxiety over the speed is gone. He has Makoto.

He laughs until his gut hurts, but even then he can't stop smiling.

 

Makoto pulls into a deserted gas station just outside Iwatobi feeling energized. It'd been too long since he'd taken his bike out, and he's missed the feeling like flying as he soars down empty roads. He silently vows to find a way to do it more often.

Preferably with Haru.

He rolls to an easy stop and lets his feet touch the ground, and Haru doesn't move. He had been stiff until Makoto had made him look up at the ocean, and downright clingy ever since. He desperately wants to see his face and what he's thinking. He turns at the waist, and Haru hugs him tighter. He laughs and takes off his helmet, hanging it from the handle bars. He runs a hand through his hair, fluffing the parts the helmet had mashed flat.

“Haru? Are you okay?” he says, cutting the engine. Haru doesn't move, so Makoto twists as much as he can and unsnaps Haru's helmet before sliding it off his head. Haru's hair sticks at odd angles, but he buries his face into Makoto's side and Makoto doesn't catch the full effect of it. He's starting to worry that Haru hadn't enjoyed it nearly as much as he had hoped.

A quick glance tells him that they're alone, and he carefully swings one leg over so he can sit sideways without breaking Haru's hold on him. He pets Haru's unruly hair down, smoothing it back to normal while he gives Haru a chance to gather himself and talk. He keeps petting his hair down, even though it behaves after the second pass.

“Makoto,” Haru says quietly, muffled by Makoto's clothes. There's something in his voice Makoto can't quite place. He's about to ask when Haru leans ever so slightly up into his hand.

“Haru-chan?” he says, voice cracking. Haru finally looks up at him, and Makoto is keenly aware of how close they are like this. Haru blinks open his eyes and Makoto feels like he's falling into them. He can't breathe. He knows this look. He's longed for this look as much as he's feared it. This was how Haru looks at water.

“Makoto,” he says again. Makoto can't speak. Haru smiles at him. Makoto moves unconsciously, wrapping his arms around Haru's shoulders and pulling him in. Haru's soft hair tickles under Makoto's chin, his head resting against his chest. Haru doesn't stiffen up, but relaxes against him. Like he's been doing it for years, Makoto tilts his head and kisses the top of Haru's head before he can think about it, breathing deep. Haru smells like home.

Haru's hands clench in the fabric of Makoto's jacket, and he has a fraction of panicked realization at what he'd done before he hears the most amazing sound in the world. Haru starts laughing. Not the aborted snorts or amused huffs he sometimes lets out, but pure unbridled laughter. Makoto stares in shock as blood rushes to color his face. He snaps out of it and starts laughing too, until both of them loosen their grips and are nearly doubled over each other.

Haru starts to trail off first, wiping at his eyes and trying to catch his breath. Makoto takes a second to catch his before carefully tilting Haru's face up towards him. Haru doesn't resist, his eyes still gleaming from laughter. The sight of him like this makes Makoto's heart race. He tries to burn it into his memory.

“Haru,” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over Haru's cheekbone. “Can I kiss you?”

Makoto barely catches the sight of Haru's eyes widening before Haru leans up, pressing his dry lips against Makoto's and Makoto eagerly leans down into it. He cups Haru's face with both hands, letting his eyes flutter shut. He feels Haru's hand tentatively wind it's way up into his hair and he breaks them apart with a laugh. Haru stares at him in disbelief, and Makoto rests his forehead against his.

He breathes out an unsteady laugh when he feels Haru press back against him. He can barely believe this is the same Haru he grew up with sitting here. Quick as a shot he runs his tongue over his lips, wondering if he could taste him there. Haru opens his eyes and catches him doing it, and both of them go red.

“Is this okay?” Makoto whispers. Haru nods against him.

“Yes,” he says. “ _Really_ okay.” Makoto tilts his head and kisses him again, still unbelieving. Haru presses up against him, rubbing his face against Makoto's like a cat. Makoto laughs into Haru's neck and lets his hand play through Haru's hair.

“Are you..?” Haru says in Makoto's ear. Doubt tints his voice, and Makoto isn't having it. He kisses the side of Haru's head.

“Yes,” he says. Kisses Haru's neck. Smiles when he feels Haru suck in a sharp breath.

“Yes.” he moves up and kisses his chin. Haru tilts his face accordingly.

“God, _yes._ ” Makoto holds him tight, and presses his lips into Haru's for a third time. Haru sighs into it, and when he pulls away he looks at Makoto with light in his eyes.

“Idiot,” he says, not unkindly. Makoto hears a car pulling up and he sneaks one more quick peck into Haru's hair.

“Maybe,” he hums. He'll never get over how Haru looks when he blushes. The car pulls into a bay near them, and Makoto hands Haru his helmet. Haru hesitates before taking it.

“Let's go eat,” Makoto says, smiling widely at him. Haru pouts his lips but nods anyway. Makoto maneuvers himself back on the bike properly, and catches Haru touching his lips with his fingertips in his side mirror.

He shoves his helmet on and turns the key. His face feels like it could split from smiling, but Haru's hands are back around his waist and he can't bring himself to care.

 

Haru's still dazed when Makoto pulls up to a familiar restaurant they used to frequent after class. Makoto cuts the engine, and Haru reluctantly lets go of him. Makoto takes his helmet off and smiles at him, and Haru's happy to see there's still color in his cheeks. He takes his own helmet off and Makoto takes it, hanging them both off the handlebars.

Makoto slides off the seat and stretches, and Haru stiffly swings a leg over to do the same. He overestimates himself, and nearly sinks to his knees. Makoto grabs him before he can fall, and Haru leans on him, willing his wobbly legs to cooperate. He isn't sure if it's just the unfamiliarity of the motorcycle ride or everything else that's happened to take the strength from his legs.

He steadies himself and Makoto lets go of him, heading into the restaurant with another little smile shot at Haru. Haru can't believe that moments ago, he had kissed him. He's sure his heart is beating too much, it has to be shortening his life.

Makoto had kissed him _back_.

The memory brings a fresh wave of color into his face and he jogs a few steps to catch up with Makoto. Makoto holds the door open and waits patiently, and Haru doesn't look up as he passes under him. He picks a stool on the end of the counter and suppresses a little thrill when Makoto pulls his stool closer to him. Haru's face still burns from where Makoto's lips had touched him.

Makoto smiles at him and knocks their knees together. He looks like he's ready to start giggling. Haru hopes he doesn't. He would probably get caught up in it again like a tide, no choice but to join in.

“What?” he says. His stomach feels light. Makoto grins and bounces his leg into him again.

“I can't believe it,” Makoto says. Haru flushes deeper and nods. The man behind the counter comes to take their orders, and after a quick glance at Haru to confirm, Makoto orders to go for both of them. Honestly, Haru couldn't care less about the food. He presses his leg back against Makoto's. He wishes they were alone. Makoto hums a song under his breath, barely containing his excitement.

“Motorcycle ride at two in the morning doesn't sound so bad now, does it?” he asks Haru smugly. Haru huffs and shakes his head, realizing it really doesn't.

“Still sounds like a bad idea,” he mumbles. Makoto laughs.

“I could probably be convinced though,” Haru adds, peeking up at Makoto from the side of his eye. Makoto's eyes go wide and then he's laughing for real.

“You're awful!” he says, scandalized. Haru pinches his lips. Makoto reaches out to brush a stray clump of hair out of his face and lowers his voice.

“There's plenty of time to convince you later,” he says. Haru swallows roughly. Makoto blinks out of it, and his hand drifts back to his lap.

“If you want,” he says lightly. Haru feels a familiar fluttering in his stomach so he just nods. Makoto keeps smiling. The cook appears with a bag, and Makoto pays him before Haru can get his wallet out. He frowns at Makoto and takes the bag from him when they walk out.

“Stop doing that,” he says. Makoto smiles innocently.

“Doing what?” he asks. Haru glares at him.

“You don't have to pay for everything,” he insists. He had offered to buy him a rail pass recently, and it was getting out of hand. Makoto shrugs and puts his helmet back on, and Haru lets it drop for now. He slips on behind Makoto without hesitating now, and tries not to crush their food between them as Makoto makes the short trip back to Haru's apartment.

Haru leads this time, unlocking the door before stepping aside to let Makoto in. Makoto shrugs out of his jacket and Haru does the same, returning his. He always forgets how small his apartment really is, but it's impossible to ignore with Makoto's bulk taking it up. Haru shoves him towards his couch and finds utensils in his kitchen before perching next to him.

He tries to sit casually, legs barely touching. Makoto passes him his box and digs into his. Haru takes a careful bite. Makoto notices his stiffness, and after a moment of internal debate, pulls Haru across the seat and up under one of his arms. Haru blinks up at him, and Makoto only smiles and keeps eating. Haru shifts himself under his arm and eats his food, undeniably more comfortable.

They eat in relative silence, and Haru hasn't felt this content since the first time Makoto took him to his pool and let him wear himself out. Makoto is solid and warm against him, his arm heavy and real around his shoulders. Haru fits against him. He probably always has. He relaxes into him.

“Oh,” Makoto says quietly. Haru looks up at him curiously. Makoto sets his chopsticks down and mirrors his look.

“Was.. This is what you were trying to tell me at the pool, isn't it?” Makoto says. Haru hides his face in Makoto's shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says. Makoto squeezes him. He feels Makoto lean to kiss the top of his head again and his stomach flips again. Out of all the kisses he had had with Makoto, and he'd already lost count, that one meant the most to him. He'd seen it his whole life, and he knows it's a mainstay of Tachibana affection. He's seen Makoto do it to the twins when they were little and to Mariko, as many times as he's seen Makoto's mother do it to him.

“I was worried there was something wrong,” Makoto says gently.

“Sorry,” Haru says.

“Don't be. I'm really happy,” Makoto says. Haru chances a look at him and Makoto's smile nearly blinds him. He shifts and Makoto lets him.

“Movie?” he asks. He's afraid if they don't have something to distract them he'll do something foolish. Makoto takes another bite and shrugs, so Haru slips out of his grasp to bring his laptop over. He sets it up and picks the first thing mildly interesting before sitting back on the couch. Makoto pulls him over easily and Haru leans back against him.

They finish their food and watch the movie, take out boxes forgotten on the floor. Halfway through Makoto leans his head on Haru's and Haru tucks his feet up underneath him. He's only half paying attention to the movie, trying to imprint the feeling of Makoto against him into his long term memory. Somehow, Makoto's steady breathing against him is as calming as resting in the bath, and Haru wants to soak it up.

The credits start to play and Haru reaches out to turn on a different movie when Makoto slumps and nearly falls on him. He jerks upright and blinks rapidly before chuckling.

“I think I was falling asleep,” he admits sheepishly. Haru frowns at him. He knows whats coming next.

“I should go home,” Makoto says around a yawn. He looks as reluctant as Haru feels. Haru just nods at him, sitting up so he can stand. Makoto stretches before pulling the leather jacket over his arms, and Haru grabs his canvas one and follows him out the door. They stand outside and Makoto hesitates.

“I'll see you soon, okay?” he says. Haru nods.

“Of course,” he says. He holds Makoto's coat out to him and Makoto smiles.

“You can bring it back later. I can't wear two anyway,” he says. Haru supposes that's true. The sun's fully set by now, and the harsh fluorescent lighting outside Haru's apartment makes Makoto look unreal. Haru wants to pull him back inside. Makoto takes a step in towards him and kisses him.

“Goodnight Haru,” he says against his lips. Haru's throat goes dry.

“Goodnight Makoto,” he rasps. Makoto smiles again, and Haru feels like falling. Makoto heads down the stairs and Haru leans against his door frame, listening to Makoto's motorcycle rumble to life before growling down the street. Haru doesn't turn back inside until the sound fades from his hearing. He looks down at the coat still in his arms.

He locks the door behind him when he finally goes back inside, heading straight to his bed. He changes into sleepwear slowly, eyes drifting back to Makoto's coat. It was solid proof that what had happened was real. He goes through his usual pre-bedtime routine automatically, and when he finally slides into bed he tugs Makoto's coat up on top of him. It smells even better than the leather one had.

He's still reeling from everything that had happened, and he can feel himself smiling into the collar of the coat. All of his thoughts lead back to Makoto. He was going to see him soon, and he might even _kiss_ him again. Haru can clearly see Makoto's face right after kissing him, and warmth spreads through him. He buries his face under Makoto's coat and doesn't think he can handle waiting to see him again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this is the longest chapter yet! How did that happen..  
> Originally, I was going to end it after they kiss on the bike >>; now it's more like the end of part one, since there's still a lot left unresolved huh? So, if you're enjoying this, one thank you, two don't worry, I'm not done yet.  
> I love hearing from you guys, so if you want to comment or message me on tumblr(paesour) please don't hesitate! Okay, love you, bye~


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Haru...” Makoto's voice is soft and Haru doesn't dare turn around and face him.  
> “I'm going to kiss you again, okay?” Makoto says, closer than before.

Makoto is up long before the sun rises, but that was hardly unusual. What was unusual was the pep in his movements. He practically skips down his stairs and out the door for his morning run, happy pop music flooding his ears from little orange ear buds. He does twice the distance he normally goes, and the first rays of light are peeking over the roofs by the time he jogs back up his driveway. Sousuke's Acura is already backed in, and Makoto smiles broadly as he opens his door.

“I'm home!” he calls out, laughing. He can hear Mariko yell something back at him. Sousuke pops his head out from the kitchen and frowns at him.

“...Welcome back,” he says suspiciously. Makoto feels like hugging him, and hesitates for only a second before he gives in. He wraps his arms around Sousuke's unwilling shoulders and holds him until Sousuke grunts and squirms.

“You stink, let go of me already,” he says. Makoto pats the top of his head and releases him. Mariko chirps when she sees him, and Makoto buries his face in her hair.

“Good morning Macchan! You don't care if I'm a little sweaty, do you?” Mariko tangles her little fingers in his hair and babbles, and Makoto kisses her before standing back up. Sousuke makes a face at him.

“Long night?” Makoto asks, already heading to the fridge. Sousuke frowns and takes a seat.

“Not because of her,” he says, flicking a cheerio at her. She eats it right off the counter. Makoto looks closer at Sousuke before closing the fridge and flipping the stove on. Coffee, he decides. Strong coffee.

“Did you fight with Rin again?” He asks, and waits for Sousuke's reaction. Sousuke holds his eyes for a moment before slumping on his crossed arms on the table and groaning.

“Not _really_ ,” he hedges. Makoto hums and digs out a frying pan. Coffee and omelets. He chops up some left over vegetables while the pan heats, flips off the kettle right before it whistles. Sousuke watches Mariko idly, not speaking. Makoto doesn't mind, he knows Sousuke needs time before he can talk about this. He sets a cup of black coffee in front of Sousuke and a sippy cup of juice in front of Mariko.

“Thanks,” Sousuke says. Makoto smiles when Sousuke helps Mariko with her juice. Makoto has some catchy upbeat song stuck in his head, and he starts humming unconsciously as he finishes breakfast. When he turns around with two only slightly misshapen omelets, Sousuke is watching him with a distant smile.

“Kind of nostalgic,” he says. Makoto agrees.

“Except I'm not cooking for one of your one night stands while you pretend to be asleep in your room,” he says. Sousuke's chopsticks stop halfway to his mouth.

“Brat,” he says, taking his bite. Makoto smiles warmly at him. He slides a bottle of spicy shichimi togarashi across the table to him.

“You should thank me, how else would you have learned to cook?” Sousuke says, shaking the red flakes on his food. Makoto shakes his head.

“I owe you one, alright,” he says sarcastically. Sousuke snorts.

“Damn right,” he says. Mariko reaches for the spice, and Sousuke deftly pushes it out of her range. Makoto can't stop grinning, so he tries to cover it by shoveling food into his mouth. Luckily, Sousuke seems too distracted to give him crap for it, and they eat in peace. Sousuke's halfway through his omelet and on his last dregs of coffee before he sighs and leans back in his chair, shifting it closer to Makoto's.

“It's just, he's so fucking _dense_ sometimes,” he says. Makoto doesn't have to ask who he's talking about. It's always been _him_.

“Dense?” he asks between bites. Sousuke nods.

“I'm sick of dancing around it. More coffee?” he stands and Makoto nods even though his cup is only half empty.

“Have you gotten your answer from the committee?” Makoto asks, leaning forward. Sousuke pours himself a new cup and tops off Makoto's.

“No. Not yet anyway,” he says, shrugging.

“Weren't you going to wait on their answer?” Makoto asks, sipping his coffee. Sousuke rubs the back of his neck and looks away.

“I was but.. He's not exactly making it easy on me,” he says. Makoto smiles.

“Rin doesn't believe in easy,” he says. Sousuke slumps back into his chair.

“Don't I know it,” he says. Makoto scoots his chair closer and Sousuke leans his head on his shoulder.

“Whatever the committee says, you're still going to tell him right?” Sousuke looks up at Makoto from his shoulder before focusing on something above them.

“Yeah. I'm done waiting,” he says quietly. Makoto stabs a bit of omelet and chews slowly. On this, he's always understood Sousuke. Haru pressed against him on his couch the night before flashes in his mind and he smiles.

“I'm sure you'll make it work,” Makoto says. Sousuke looks at him again and sits up straight to go back to his food.

“You always say that,” he says.

“I always mean it,” Makoto answers. Sousuke snorts and flashes him a smile. Makoto feels his good mood heighten. Makoto holds out a bite for Mariko, and when she makes grabby hands for more he laughs and ends up giving the rest to her.

“What's got you in such a great mood anyway? Have a good date last night?” Sousuke drawls behind him. Makoto doesn't turn from Mariko, but he feels his face heating.

“It wasn't a _date_ ,” he says. Sousuke laughs.

“And how long has it been since you took your bike out?” he asks. Makoto frowns.

“...A while, I guess.” he says hesitantly.

“Date.” Sousuke says with a finality. Makoto pinches his lips to keep from smiling. He has a point. He feeds Mariko another bite and thinks about telling him.

“So, what if, hypothetically...” he starts, keeping his eyes low. He can still see when Sousuke sets his chopsticks down and crosses his arms.

“Makoto,” Sousuke says sternly. Makoto winces but it doesn't stop the giddy feeling in his chest. He had gone on a _date_ , after all.

“Hear me out though! What if, _hypothetically,_ Haru and I-”

“What did he do?” Sousuke cuts in, frowning. Makoto raises his hands in front of him.

“What? Nothing! He didn't-”

 _“Makoto,”_ Sousuke stares at him. Makoto can tell he's not buying it.

“Nothing much?” he tries with a smile. Sousuke groans.

“Makoto, really...” he starts and Makoto waves him off.

“I know! I know but. _Sousuke_ ,” Sousuke looks up at that, and doesn't speak. Makoto looks at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with his eyes.

“It was nice. Sousuke, it was _so nice_ ,” when he looks back up at him he can't fight the smile creeping in across his face. Sousuke watches, emotion unreadable. Makoto wraps his hands around his mug, warmth of the coffee seeping into his hands.

“I want it to be real,” he says quietly. For a moment, neither of them move, the only sound coming from Mariko quietly playing with her food. The moment stretches, and Makoto is about to change the subject to something lighter when Sousuke lets out a breath like he's been holding it for years. Makoto looks at him and Sousuke pulls him over in a one armed embrace.

“I want it to be real for you too,” he says into Makoto's hair. “You deserve whatever happiness you can get, even if it is that mackerel loving freak.” Makoto snorts and jabs Sousuke in the ribs. Sousuke puts him in an easy headlock and messes up his hair when he struggles. Makoto hears something make a splat sound followed by immediate elated screaming from Mariko. Sousuke goes lax against him and when Makoto lets himself out of the headlock he has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

A Mariko-sized handful of egg slides off Sousuke's cheek just in time for Makoto to watch it fall. Sousuke looks shocked for a second before flinging it back at Mariko, who breaks into peals of laughter when it hits her. Makoto gives up and laughs at both of them, and Sousuke shoots him a look.

“You're both impossible,” he says, wiping his face with his sleeve. Mariko eats the bit of thrown egg triumphantly, and even Sousuke cracks a laugh at her.

“Thanks Sousuke,” Makoto says and Sousuke looks at him.

“Hm?” His eyebrow raises and he takes another sip of his coffee.

“For putting up with the impossible,” Makoto says with a smile. He takes the empty plates to the sink and Sousuke just hums and waves him off. Makoto lets the tap run for a second, waiting for the water to heat up.

“This _is_ what you want, right?” Sousuke says behind him. His eyes are intense when Makoto meets them, and he's hit with how hard this must be for him. He turns the tap off an faces him.

“Yeah,” he says roughly. For some reason, he doesn't see Haru when he speaks. He sees the hundred of lost glances Sousuke sends Rin when he can't see them.

“You know it is,” he says softly. Sousuke's eyes cloud before he nods.

“Okay then,” Sousuke says. He drops his eyes to his coffee and Makoto knows that's that. He hums and turns back to the tap, satisfied.

“I still don't like him,” Sousuke says around a yawn behind him. Makoto's disapproving frown is met with a lazy grin. Makoto laughs in spite of himself.

“Fine, but at least try to be civil?” he says, scrubbing the pan. Sousuke shrugs.

“No promises,” he says. Makoto lets out a defeated huff.

“ _Sousuke,”_ he tries. Sousuke glares.

“Knock it off,” he says. Makoto takes it as an invitation to pout.

“Seriously,” Sousuke says, looking away.

“ _So-u-su-ke,”_ Makoto whines, pulling each syllable into the next. He knows he's close to winning him over now. Sousuke blinks up at him and jerks his head back too fast. Makoto smiles.

“I'll try, okay? Now stop it with the puppy eyes, you're going to give me an ulcer,” Sousuke groans.

“Aw, you'll be fine tough guy,” Makoto says, happily returning to his dishes. He can hear Sousuke slump back onto the table. Makoto stifles a laugh and Sousuke groans.

Today was looking _wonderful._

 

Haru's knee won't stop bouncing on the train. He gave up on it a while ago, but the lady sitting across from his keeps shooting him concerned looks. He looks out the window and crosses his legs, hiding the tick. He doesn't fight when his toes start tapping out a pattern inside his shoes.

He wasn't sure how he was going to survive the day.

He would believe the last 24 hours had been some intense dream if not for the fact that after Makoto had _kissed him goodnight_ , Haru hadn't slept a wink. Initially he had just laid in his narrow bed, reliving the night over and over. He finally dived under his blankets in embarrassment, and tried willing himself to sleep. Unfortunately for Haru, he had way too much energy to even pretend. He hadn't lasted twenty minutes before he dragged himself out of bed and pulled out a fresh canvas.

The next time he had looked at a clock, he barely had enough time to shower the paint off before running to catch his train. His stomach turns over and he looks out the window. It was strange for him to have so much energy that he felt like he could actively collapse from it. He idly wonders if Makoto is making breakfast again.

His toes stop tapping and go still at the thought of him. He can still feel a bit of the warmth Makoto's back radiated as they rode down the highway. He can still see the surprised light in his eyes when Haru had kissed him. He catches his reflection in the window smiling and he's glad he's almost to his stop.

It's still early when he steps out of the station, and the streets are awake with vendors dragging out signs and hosing off the streets in anticipation for the day. Haru walks past them, and some of it seems to cling to him as he goes. He's looking forward to walking up Makoto's driveway, more than he should after having been there just last night. It's strange, he thinks, how everything's changed.

Panic doesn't hit him until he can read the names outside Makoto's house. _Had_ everything changed? He wasn't sure. Would it be different between them now? Had he messed up the careful balance they had worked so hard to recreate? Haru is opening the door before the thoughts can really settle in. He slips his shoes off and closes the door quietly behind him, drawing a deep breath to steady him. He can hear Mariko babbling and Makoto's soft laughter. Makoto turns around right as Haru pads into the kitchen and the smile that grows on his face stops Haru's heart.

“Good morning, Haru,” he smiles. Haru's heart restarts.

“Good morning,” he says. Makoto shoots him another smile before turning back to the stove. Mariko reaches out to him and he picks her up and buries his face in her hair. He's pretty sure she's drooling on his shirt, and he realizes he really doesn't mind.

“Here.” Haru hears the plate click against the table as Makoto sets a plate in front of him. He takes a seat and settles Mariko in his lap. He had missed her. He's a little surprised to see a lumpy omelet in front of him, but the smell pulls him through his doubts.

“It's good,” he says, feeling Makoto watching him. Makoto blinks out of it and stares before easing back into a smile.

“I'm glad, it's just left overs though,” he says. Haru watches him and has to look back at his plate. Mariko reaches out to take a handful right off his plate, so he holds a bite out in front of her. She gobbles it down and chirps for more.

“Don't let her eat all your food too, she already had mine,” Makoto says with a laugh. He sits next to Haru and brushes Mariko's hair, distracting her so Haru can sneak a bite in. Haru chews slowly, and slides his plate towards him. Makoto opens his mouth to protest and Haru holds a bite out for him too.

“Haru?”

“Eat,” he says, softer than he meant. Makoto doesn't move for a second before leaning in and taking the bite right off Haru's chopsticks. Haru's breath catches in his throat and he can feel himself heat up as he looks away. He hadn't expected that. Makoto hums next to him.

“I bet you think it'd be better with mackerel,” he says. Haru shoots him a look and takes another bite, pointedly ignoring him.

“Do you have any?” he asks after a second when curiosity gets the better of him. Makoto breaks into laughter and Mariko squirms and joins him.

“Sorry sorry, next time okay?” Makoto says. Haru can't help the slight disappointment that graces his face. Makoto smiles sympathetically and pats his shoulder as he gets up. Haru watches him get his stuff together as he alternates bites for himself and bites for Mariko. This was so.. _normal_. Surprisingly so. If this was what it was like, he could do this.

“Sorry I don't have more time this morning,” Makoto says, looking like he really means it. Haru shakes his head. He knew he wouldn't have much time before he got here.

“But, swimming tomorrow, okay?” That catches Haru's attention and he looks up at Makoto and nods quickly.

“Of course,” he says. Makoto smiles.

“Okay. Macchan, be good for Haru, alright?” Makoto leans down an kisses Mariko's head, and Haru can smell Makoto's shampoo. Before Makoto can straighten out fully, he leans in and pecks Haru on the cheek. Haru feels like he's burning.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he says. Haru can only nod dumbly. He can see the faintest hint of pink high on Makoto's cheeks. Makoto smiles broadly one more time before he heads to the door, and Haru's heart is still racing full minutes after he hears it close softly behind him.

He covers his face with his hands and groans. There was no way he could do this.

 

In the end, Haru calms down not long after Makoto leaves, and the morning is relatively uneventful. He lets Mariko play with her toys while he catches up on his email, and decides it's time for lunch when she starts chewing on the toy phone Nagisa had given her for her birthday.

“If you're hungry I'll make you something,” he says easing the toy out of her mouth. She perks up and Haru tilts his head.

“Hungry?” he tries. She claps and looks towards the kitchen and Haru feels his chest tighten.

“You understand that, don't you?” he says, but she's already crawling towards the kitchen and ignores him. He shakes his head to himself and leans down to pick her up.

“Honestly...” he says, but he's smiling. She fights being held until he heads into the kitchen with her.

“Habaa,” she says and Haru fights a laugh. He sets her in her chair and messes her hair up.

“Try something easier,” he says, turning back to the fridge.

“Hababu,” she says with a laugh. Haru shakes his head.

“Lunch,” he says.

“HabaBU,” she chirps. Haru bites his lip. There really wasn't any mackerel or fish in Makoto's refrigerator. He clicks his lips in disappointment. After a little digging he decides on something easy.

“Udon,” he tells her, and holds the package of noodles up for her.

“Budo,” she says seriously. Haru frowns.

“Noodles, with broth,” he adds. Mariko plants her hands on the table.

“Budo ba!” she says, impatient. Haru shakes his head and pulls out a pot.

“We don't have any mackerel, so..” he trails off, digging around in the drawer for cooking utensils.

“-aba?” Haru only catches the second part over the clanking of spatulas and spoons. He looks back at her.

“...Aba?” there was no way, but he holds his breath anyway.

“Saba?” she says again and Haru feels energy shoot all the way to the tip of his toes and back. He drops what he's holding on the counter and sits next to her.

“Saba,” he says eagerly, nodding his head encouragingly.

“SABA!” she shouts. Haru breaks into a real smile and picks her back up, hugging her tight to his chest. She giggles when his hair brushes her face and Haru finds himself laughing back with her. He feels light. It's got to mean something that her second word is _mackerel,_ of all things.

“Good, that's- that's great Mariko,” Haru says smiling into her hair.

“Saba!” She chirps, grabbing his nose with her pudgy little fingers.

“Saba,” he agrees. He can't wait to tell Makoto. He puts her back in her chair and ruffles her hair up before going back to working on lunch, already planning out how many other words he can teach her.

 

The next morning he makes instant miso soup for breakfast, too exhausted to put in the effort for much else. Mariko hadn't slept well, and Haru had ended up spending half the night playing cat videos and soft songs on youtube, trying anything to get her to go to sleep. Eventually, he had passed out long before she did, quiet documentary on the evolution of cats playing on his laptop on the corner of Makoto's bed.

She's still prone to spill more than eat liquidy foods like soup, so Haru dishes her a bit of baby food and hopes for the best before taking his seat and nursing his tea. Mariko was as fresh as a daisy, and as Haru watches her cheerfully attack her food he can feel the bags under his eyes deepen. He yawns and slumps forward, resting his head on the cool wood of Makoto's kitchen table.

“Saba!” Mariko says questioningly at him. Haru smiles a little against his exhaustion.

“Right. Saba,” he says, voice a little scratchy from the day before. He had spent all day and most of the evening trying all sorts of other words with her, and ended up talking more than he was used to. After all was said and done, _saba_ was still the only word that stuck. Haru can't even be mad about it. He's still waiting for Makoto to get back so he can show him.

The key sliding into the lock wakes Haru, and he blinks quickly and tries to orient himself. He can hear Makoto taking off his shoes, and he frantically tries to wipe the drool off his face with his sleeve before he comes around the corner. At some point, Mariko's spoon made it to the floor, but it hasn't seemed to slow her down any. Haru's soup is cold, but he tilts his bowl back and swallows a few mouthfuls anyway.

“I'm home! Good morning!” Makoto greets them rounding the corner. Haru hides his face with his bowl when Makoto smiles at him.

“Dadda!” Mariko reaches out towards him and Makoto swoops her up easily, rubbing his face in her hair.

“Good morning, Mariko! What'd you do to Haru?” Makoto says with a laugh quirking his head in Haru's direction. Haru frowns.

“She was fine, I'm fine,” he says. Makoto smiles, not believing him. Haru sighs and sips his tea. He nearly chokes on it when it's colder than he expected. Makoto snorts a laugh and puts Mariko back down, already taking the kettle to the sink to refill it.

Haru blinks slowly, taking his chance with Makoto's back turned to wake up more fully. He had the rest of the day with him before swimming, and he doesn't want to be too tired to enjoy it. Makoto flicks on the stove and heads to the fridge, already pulling out ingredients for breakfast. He's whisking eggs with soy sauce and mirin before Haru gets to his feet and walks over to him.

“Morning,” he says and Makoto smiles down at him. Haru feels better just being near him, his nearly visible energy radiating out to him. Haru nudges his shoulder into Makoto, silently telling him he'll take over. Makoto lets him, going back to tea and coffee while Haru takes over making the tamagoyaki. There's a quiet ease between them. Makoto sets his tea in front of him and kisses the top of Haru's head while his hands are full. Haru shoots him an accusing look. _No fair_ , he says.

“Miss me?” Makoto asks lightly, and Haru freezes. Makoto is bent over in the fridge digging out a package of tsukemono and doesn't notice.

“Yes,” Haru says quietly, turning back to the eggs.

“Haru...” Makoto's voice is soft and Haru doesn't dare turn around and face him.

“I'm going to kiss you again, okay?” Makoto says, closer than before. Haru turns and Makoto catches his face in his hands, and Haru only has time to see Makoto's green eyes slip closed as he bends forward before his lips are on Haru's. Haru leans into him, his hands grabbing the fabric on Makoto's back to pull them closer. Makoto pulls away gently and Haru exhales in a gust, suddenly remembering to breathe. Makoto smiles at him and brushes his hair with one hand, making no move to separate them.

“That okay?” Makoto asks, voice barely above a whisper but still loud in Haru's ear. Haru lets his head fall against Makoto's chest and inhales deeply. One of Makoto's arms snakes its way around his waist while the other stays in his hair and Haru thinks he could stay like this forever.

“Better,” he says into Makoto's shirt. Makoto's laugh doesn't quite make it past his chest, but Haru can feel it rumble beneath him.

“I missed you too,” Makoto says, and Haru's breath hitches again. He doesn't know what to say to that, but he feels like he needs to say something. He's opening his mouth when the smell of burning food hits them and Makoto jerks to pull the pan off the burner.

“Crap, sorry Haru. I should have kept a better eye on that,” Makoto says. He's scraping black egg bits off into the trash and Haru snorts at him. His tea is still hot, and he takes a long sip when Makoto smiles weakly at him.

“What kind of fireman burns things?” Haru asks demurely. Makoto gapes at him.

“Wh- I-” he stutters and Haru huffs out a soft laugh into his tea. Makoto closes his mouth with a click and smiles, eyes narrowing at him.

“The kind that's too busy doing _this_ ,” he says stepping into Haru's space and kissing him without warning. Haru blinks and Makoto pulls back, only to quickly kiss him again. Makoto peppers him with his soft lips and Haru alternates between breathing and squirming before finally pushing against him gently.

“Okay alright, get off me,” he says breathlessly. Makoto had started laughing somewhere around the fourth kiss, and he doesn't stop when he backs up to let Haru breathe. He runs his hand through Haru's hair one more time before surrendering the kitchen back to him and taking his seat. Haru turns back to the stove smiling to himself, knowing full well how red his face must be.

“So, did you two have a good day yesterday?” Makoto asks Mariko as much as he asks Haru. That snaps him out of his haze and Haru remembers what he wanted to show him.

“She learned something,” he says. Makoto perks up from his tsukemono and looks at Haru.

“Oh?” Makoto prompts when Haru doesn't offer an explanation. Haru shrugs, trying to reel in his excitement.

“I don't know how to show you,” he says truthfully. He spent all day trying to teach her other words, but also trying to decide if she really understood the word, or was using it as a _name_. Makoto turns back to Mariko and wipes a bit of goop off her cheek.

“I guess she'll show me on her own time,” he says. Haru nods and rolls the first layer of egg to the end of the pan. He tries not to be smug about _his_ eggs being perfectly done.

 

Before he knows it, they're back in the pool. Makoto is teaching on his side while Haru relentlessly swims laps. His energy has been up and down all day, and frankly, he's exhausted from it. He's attempting to wear himself out for good, so when he gets home all he'll have energy to do is collapse on his bed. He hasn't been paying attention to Makoto's class, and it startles him when Makoto is suddenly splashing into the water next to him.

“Having fun?” Makoto asks. Haru takes a second to catch his breath.

“Is your class over already?” he asks. Had it really been that long?

“Oh yeah. Everyone's already gone home,” Makoto says. He's smiling at Haru and Haru forgets the burn in his legs for a minute.

“Race? I think you owe me an 800 meter,” Makoto says hopefully. Haru huffs.

“ _400._ What's with you and 800?” he says. Makoto snorts a laugh behind him and Haru makes his way to the starting block. It takes more effort than he'd like to admit to pull himself out of the water, and he disguises it with a stretch before stepping up on the block. Makoto is already holding onto the bar in the adjacent lane, and when Haru catches his eye he smiles.

“Maybe I just want to swim with you a little longer?” Makoto says lightly. Haru's mouth falls open and Makoto smiles wider before tightening up and crashing back into the water, starting without him. Haru smiles and dives, determined to catch the cheater.

Four hundred is a lot longer than Haru's normal races, and sometime during the years they were apart Makoto built up the stamina of a tank. Haru never really stood a chance. When he breaks the surface on the last lap, Makoto is already sitting on the lip of the pool smiling as big as ever. Haru's honestly a little impressed with him.

 _“Cheater,”_ he hisses out as soon as he has the breath. Makoto breaks into a laugh and Haru thinks it's unfair how good he looks doing it. Makoto folds his legs beneath him and crouches, offering Haru his hand. Haru reluctantly takes it and lets Makoto pull him out of the water.

“Alright, one more then. Two hundred, and I'll even swim freestyle, okay?” Haru looks at him, their hands still intertwined.

“No cheating?” he says. Makoto squeezes his hand before releasing it and taking the block next to him.

“Fair and square, promise,” he says. He certainly _looks_ trustworthy. Haru sighs and gets back up on his block.

“My mark then,” he says quietly. They're close enough he could probably whisper. Makoto nods and crouches when Haru does. Haru watches him for a second, but Makoto looks straight ahead, focused. Haru adjusts his goggles.

“Ready... Go!” he dives as the word leaves his mouth, and Makoto is airborne right next to him. He hits the water a fraction of a second before Makoto, and he kicks as hard as he can. He'll return Makoto's focus with his own. He breaks the surface and swings his arms into action, the water parting smoothly around him.

It's _so_ good to be back in a pool. Haru can probably never tell Makoto how much it meant to him when Makoto brought him here the first time. He breaks the surface and gets a giddy jolt of energy to see Makoto right next to him, still keeping up. He turns his head back to the water and focuses back on the race. Makoto probably knows already anyway.

They make the turn and Haru knows he's in trouble. Makoto has stronger legs than him, and their four hundred meter race hadn't taken nearly the same toll on Makoto. Haru pushes for all he's worth, expecting Makoto to start pulling past him at any second.

Something like iron wraps around his ankle and yanks him back mid-lap, and Haru nearly chokes on pool water. He flails around but somehow his head stays above water. He only has seconds to panic before Makoto's strong arms and pulling him in, and his lips are back on his.

Haru's mind blanks, and he dimly realizes Makoto had caught him for the sole purpose of kissing him like this. He rips his goggles off when they clack with Makoto's, and he's aware of Makoto doing the same before they're back. Something shifts, and their mouths open a moment before Makoto's tongue pushes gently into Haru's mouth. Makoto's hands hold him up, and Haru clenches his around Makoto's shoulders, heart racing. Makoto's tongue is foreign and strange, but he laps it against Haru's and Haru moans around it. Makoto draws back only to tilt Haru's head, and comes back at him with a force. This time when Makoto opens their mouths, Haru tentatively tries using his tongue, and is rewarded with a Makoto squeezing his sides and pulling him closer.

Haru is overwhelmed and knows he won't be able to take much more of this, but at the same time he hopes it never ends. The pool water is almost chilly around their waists in comparison to the heat flooding Haru's face and chest. Makoto smells like chlorine and _Makoto_ , and when his tongue slips over Haru's teeth, Makoto groans quietly into his mouth. It was perfect.

“Haru, Haru,” Makoto pulls back and says his name into his hair, and Haru shivers. He nudges Makoto's face with his own, trying to find his lips with his. He gets neck and cheek and Makoto starts laughing, just as breathless as Haru.

“Easy, Haru. We don't have to rush, it's okay,” Makoto breathes. Haru didn't know he was rushing. But when he leans back and his vision clears, he understands. Makoto is flushed and his lips are kissed-red, and the sight sends a sharp flare of heat straight to his groin. Makoto's still holding him up, and Haru lets him, slumping forward and resting his forehead on the slick fabric of Makoto's wet suit.

“Yeah. Okay... Okay,” he says, willing his heart rate to go back to normal. Makoto sets him down in the water and Haru finds himself missing it almost instantly. Their breathing evens out and Haru reluctantly lets go of him. He doesn't really want to stop, but the thought of what comes next intimidates him enough to overrule it.

“Let's go change and get Mariko?” Makoto questions. Haru nods. They're standing in the middle of the lane, and Haru thinks about just swimming to the edge. But Makoto is already wading past him, and Haru falls into step next him him, their hands dragging in the water.

Makoto pulls himself up turns around to offer Haru his hand in one fluid movement. Haru looks away but takes his hand anyway, too tired to protest. Makoto pulls him up and tucks him under his arm before Haru's properly on his feet. He leans a little of his weight on Makoto, limbs feeling awkward and heavy.

“Overdid it huh?” Makoto says. Haru looks up and tries to read him. There was something he wasn't quite getting in Makoto's eyes, something beyond the normal kind of concern. He thinks Makoto's about to add something but he decides against it, shaking his head and tugging Haru towards the lockers.

“Don't strain yourself,” he says. Haru snorts indignantly and shoves at him.

“You worry too much,” he says back. Makoto smiles and wipes at his face.

“Probably,” he says. Makoto holds the door open and Haru pushes off of him and walks on his own. He heads straight to the showers while Makoto skips it to go change. Haru watches Makoto pulling the zipper down his back before he stiffly turns to the faucet and yanks it on. It's colder than he'd like but he can still taste Makoto's tongue in his mouth and he thinks cold water is probably for the best.

Makoto yells that he's going to go see Mariko and he'll wait for him in daycare, and Haru nods him off. He doesn't take long toweling off and changing, and by the time he's stumbling he's feeling the welcome exhaustion with his whole body.

Makoto is crouched on the floor of the daycare room with Mariko, and they're both totally absorbed with Mariko's little tower of blocks. They're the only ones left by now, and Haru quietly leans against the door frame to watch them. Mariko plops a block on top that even from the doorway Haru can tell is doomed to fall, but when it does, Makoto speaks softly and picks it back up for her and she doesn't cry. Haru feels his lips curling up watching them, the moment a perfect time capsule for the kind of parent Makoto was growing into.

Makoto notices him then and smiles warmly up at him. Mariko follows his train of sight and bounces a little when she sees Haru standing there.

“Saba!” she calls. Haru quickly wipes at his face to hide his laugh. So it was a name after all. Makoto blinks between them.

“Did she just..?” Mariko ignores him and starts crawling towards Haru.

“Saba saba!” She calls. Haru smiles and kneels down in front of her, letting her crawl up into his lap.

“Is she?” Makoto starts but he can't seem to really form the question. Haru shifts and sits, letting Mariko crawl over him as she pleases.

“She learned something,” Haru says. He bops Mariko on the nose and she makes a face at him.

“Saba,” she says, and starts chewing on his finger. Haru sighs and uses his free hand to brush her hair out of her face. Makoto chokes and Haru looks up at him just in time for Makoto to cover his mouth with both hands.

“Is she _calling you saba?”_ he asks, voice muffled by his hands. Haru nods and looks at him with growing concern.

“Are you-” He's interrupted when Makoto can't hold it in any longer and bursts into laughter. He tries to keep his fave covered, but gives up quickly, throwing his head back to let his laughs rumble up from his gut out into the room. Haru watches, stunned, and frankly a little insulted. Makoto looks like he's having a hard time breathing. Mariko looks up at him and he looks back at her. He can almost see her asking if he's okay. Haru snorts and squeezes her.

“It's alright, your dad just doesn't get out much,” he says sarcastically. Mariko coos at him seriously. Makoto keeps laughing.

“I leave you two alone- for one night- and she's calling you _mackerel_!” Makoto gasps between bouts of laughter. Haru holds Mariko in front of himself defensively.

“I wasn't sure if she was calling _me_ that. Until now, I guess,” he says frowning. Haru lets out his own quiet laugh when Makoto snorts and goes back to nearly howling.

“He's hopeless,” Haru mumbles into Mariko's hair as she crawls up on his shoulders. He goes rigid and tries to hold still so she doesn't fall, but jerks a little when her she grabs him by his ear for support. Makoto's settled down and is quietly wiping a tear from the corner of his eye when Haru sends him an SOS look.

“Hang on,” he says, digging around in his bag. Haru cringes when he feels a finger creeping into his ear.

“Haru, smile,” Makoto says sweetly. Haru gives him his best _you aren't helping face_ as Makoto snaps a picture on his phone. Makoto doesn't seem to mind him not smiling, and gets up to pry Mariko off of him once he has his picture. Haru relaxes once Mariko's weight is off his shoulders, literally, and looks up when Makoto holds his hand out for him. Haru frowns but takes it anyway.

“That's actually pretty cute,” Makoto says. Haru huffs and starts to walk off without him. Makoto chuckles and easily catches up to walk next to him.

The suns already set by the time they reach the parking lot, and Haru shivers at the temperature drop when they step outside. Makoto doesn't seem affected, and hums to himself as he unlocks the truck and starts buckling Mariko in. Haru shifts his weight and debates what he should do. He doesn't wait long before Makoto notices him standing awkwardly and smiles at him through the windows of the truck.

“Get in Haru, the door's unlocked,” he says easily. Haru smiles when he turns back to Mariko and hefts himself up into the passenger seat, tucking his bag against his feet on the floorboards. Makoto climbs in and closes the door behind him, and the quiet hits Haru with how long its been since he's actually let Makoto give him a ride home. Makoto turns the key and lets the engine idle.

“You gave up pretty easy that time,” he says curiously. Haru shrugs and looks out the window.

“You aren't being stubborn because...” Makoto says, ending in thought. Haru blinks back to him and Makoto rubs his chin, like he can solve him.

“Because I want to ride with you,” Haru supplies quietly. He's a little surprised at his own words, but not as much as Makoto. Makoto rubs the back of his neck and looks away, and even in the dim light in the cab Haru can spot the faint blush across his cheeks. The memory of Makoto's tongue against his rises in his mind and Haru blushes too, and looks back out the window.

“Dinner, then?” Makoto asks almost shyly, finally breaking the silence. Haru swallows and nods, and Makoto eases the truck out of parking lot. Haru relaxes with the low familiar growl of the truck and watches the city pass by as Makoto drives them. The city is colored in lights pouring out from windows and falling from street lamps, and Haru finds the play of light on dark streets as calming as the familiar quiet between him and Makoto. He'd missed it. It seems foolish how he'd been avoiding him, avoiding this.

They pull up in front of a chain restaurant and Makoto ducks inside to get them something quick. Haru exhales in the silence and when he cranes his neck to look in the back seat Mariko is already asleep. He watches her for a minute, yawning to himself. Makoto comes back jostling big foam cups and paper bags of food. Haru shoots him a disapproving look but helps him arrange their dinner between them so Makoto can eat while he drives anyway. Makoto smiles around his straw and kicks the heater up, and Haru takes sip of his own drink.

“Oh don't be mad, you look like you'd fall asleep if we went to a real restaurant,” Makoto says, plucking a handful of fries from a bag and popping it in his mouth. Haru tries to frown but it annoyingly turns into a yawn halfway there. Makoto smiles widely and him but wisely chooses not to comment.

“A place like that doesn't have any mackerel,” Haru says instead, picking through his food. He hears Makoto choke on a laugh and shoots him a glare. Makoto suspiciously starts coughing, and Haru lets it drop.

“You're not wrong,” he says. “But I got you fish at least.” Haru peeks back in his bag, and sure enough there was a box of fried fish under even more fries. He takes a bite and looks back out the window to hide his reaction. Honestly, it was much better than he'd expected.

“It barely counts as fish,” he says, defeated. Makoto laughs and unwraps his burger. They go back to a comfortable silence as they eat, Makoto somehow perfectly comfortable driving one handed. Haru finishes long before the lights of Iwatobi peek out from the darkness in front of them, and by the time Makoto is turning inland from the port he's more than ready to pass out onto his bed.

Makoto pulls into an empty space in front of his apartments and Haru reaches for the door handle. The lock slides down right as he touches it, and when he looks back at Makoto he's smiling like he knows something Haru doesn't.

“What,” he says blankly. Makoto leans one arm across the steering wheel and smiles at him.

“No more walking home,” Makoto says. “From now on you're going to let me drive you.” Haru bristles.

“It's fine,” he insists. Makoto smiles that knowing smile and Haru feels himself getting annoyed at it.

“No more avoiding me just because you don't know what to say,” Makoto says gently. Haru's eyes go wide and the fight drains out of him. Suddenly the air feels heavy and constricting.

“How did you know?” he asks quietly. Makoto's eyes are dark in the poor lighting, and Haru can't tell what flashes across them before his smile settles and widens.

“You just told me,” Makoto says. Haru closes his mouth. Makoto looks like he's going to say something and Haru shakes his head to the side.

“I'm sorry,” he says quickly, cutting Makoto off before he can begin. Makoto only closes his mouth and waits politely.

“I wasn't avoiding you, I just... I didn't know how to say it,” he finishes lamely. Makoto's hand tangles through his hair and Haru looks back at him, trying hard not to lean into his palm.

“You don't have to know what to say, Haru. Just know that you can talk to me, okay?” Makoto's lips quirk up and he brushes Haru's hair from his forehead, fingers ghosting over his skin. “I'll listen even if you don't know _what_ you're saying.”

A hundred things come to mind, things Haru hasn't known how to say for years, things he's only known he wanted to say for days, questions he's held back for weeks. He knows Makoto would listen to each one of them, and he doubts Makoto would hold anything back if he asked. Makoto's hand is steadily brushing his bangs away, so instead of worrying about all of that, Haru leans against him and closes his eyes.

“Okay,” he says breathing deep. _I'll try._

“Good,” Makoto answers. Haru can hear the smile behind it. Makoto makes no effort to leave, and Haru lets himself take a moment to just enjoy his comfort. When he slits his eyes open and looks at Makoto, his eyes are so soft and fond that Haru has to tear himself away. He should go so Makoto can go home anyway. Makoto's arm rests on the back of the seat and Haru thinks its unfair how easy it would be to slide underneath it and let Makoto pull them together.

“I should go,” he says, barely above a whisper. Makoto nods in understanding, and Haru catches the same reluctance in the stiffness of his shoulders that Haru feels in his stomach. He unclicks his seat belt stiffly, and Makoto flips the lock back up while he fishes his bag out from under his feet.

“I'll see you soon,” Makoto starts as Haru reaches for the door again. He's smiling again but Haru thinks it's a small, defenseless smile, and it makes him pause.

“Goodnight Haru,” Makoto says, probably expecting Haru to stay quiet. Haru hesitates before scooting across the middle seat and leaning over the crumpled paper trash from their makeshift dinner, extending himself up far enough to press his lips into the side of Makoto's face. He hears Makoto gasp under his breath, and falls back to his side of the truck before Makoto can react.

“Goodnight Makoto,” he says, smiling a little smugly at the awe on Makoto's face. Slowly, Makoto relaxes into an honest smile and Haru yanks on the door handle and slips outside. Haru focuses on keeping his pace from getting away from him as he climbs the stairs to the second floor of his apartment building, knowing Makoto was still in the lot watching him. He gets to his floor and peers back to the truck and Makoto waves at him, huge grin still on his face. Haru smiles and waves back, feeling victorious.

It's not quite half an hour later when Haru's put all his things in order and tucked into bed when his phone rings. He's been drifting, but he slinks a hand out from the blankets to grab at his phone anyway. _'I made it back, thanks for doing my laundry!'_ it says. Haru smiles to himself and his screen lights up again before he can think to reply. _'I hope this becomes a habit'_ it reads. Haru blinks twice before he realizes he's not talking about laundry. _Goodnight kisses_ , Haru thinks, going red. He's glad there's no one to witness the way he rolls himself up in the blankets at that.

 _'Me too'_ he finally sends back. It's an excruciatingly long 46 seconds before Makoto sends him something back. _'I'm in if you are'_ Haru snorts.

“Idiot,” he mumbles under his blankets. _'that's obvious'_ he sends. He sets his phone back down and borrows further in bed. He was _seriously_ going to go to sleep now. He's nearly done it when his phone rings again. He tries ignoring it, but his hand reaches out without him.

 _'_ _( ´ ▽ ` )_ _ﾉ_ _Goodnight Haru'_ is all it says. Haru smiles anyway, and falls asleep with his phone in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! U_U sorry this took lika a hundred years to update, believe me when I say no one is more frustrated by that then I am. I hope the saba/mackerel thing wasn't too confusing, but since it was something they actually said in the anime I figured most of you would understand. If you're still confused, "saba" is how you say "mackerel" in Japanese, so I left it like that instead of saying "mackerel" when Mariko calls Haru that. Thanks Vicuz for the super cute idea!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I've missed you. I've missed you _so_ much Haru,” he says. Haru breathes deeply, and Makoto rests his face against his.

The dim light of early morning filters in through the cracks in Haru's curtains and settles gently on the sliver of face exposed from his blankets, and he rolls over in his sleep to escape them. His form rises and falls with deep, even breathing while his mind is a hundred miles away, still hours from waking.

A shrill sound cuts through the silence, destroying it with it's persistent ringing. Disoriented, Haru jerks and knocks his phone to the floor when he grabs for it, eyes still dull from sleep. He curses under his breath and rubs at his eyes, gaining enough sight to see just in time for the light on his phone to dim down, missing the call. He wraps his blanket tighter around his lean frame and leans over his bed to reach his phone. He's surprised when he settles back in to find his missed call is from Rin.

He has several missed messages, he finds, and the first one is from Makoto. Haru swipes it open, fighting a yawn. Mariko all but standing on his shoulders with her little hands tangled in his hair smiles up at him from his screen. It's the picture Makoto took of them the night before, and Haru is surprised he doesn't look all that irritated in it. He saves it and opens the next. _'Haru sorry!! I think Rin is mad at me, he's probably going after you next!'_ Haru frowns. He flips back to the picture, belatedly noticing that it was sent to everyone, with the line _'meet uncle saba'_ underneath it. _'don't worry about it'_ he sends back, nearly laughing at the thought of Rin getting so worked up over something like this.

Haru tosses his phone on his bed and gets up, stretching out his back as another yawn escapes him. He heads to the bathroom and ignores it when it starts ringing again, Rin's name flashing across the screen. He splashes cool water on his face and tugs his hair into place, giving up on sleeping in anymore. He doesn't have any plans for the day, but he has a funny feeling it's about to get busy anyway.

He's dressed and flipping his mackerel on the one working burner in his kitchen when the pounding on his door starts. He smiles a little to himself and ignores it, hearing his phone ring from where he left it in his room. The soft sizzle of his pan is relaxing, and he sips his tea to enjoy probably the last minute of peace he'll get today.

“HARU I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE,” Rin's voice is impossibly loud from outside, but Haru's apartment walls have never been that thick in the first place. He slides his breakfast onto a plate and heads to the entry, making sure to take a bite as he opens the door.

Rin nearly collides into him when Haru opens it, Rin's arms raised mid-pound. He takes in Haru's unhurried appearance and Haru tastes a small victory at the anger flushing Rin's face.

“Haru, you bastard,” Rin starts, shoving his way in past Haru. Haru closes the door behind him, taking another deliberately slow bite. Rin kicks his shoes off and Haru heads back to the kitchen, picking up his second plate.

“I've been calling you all morning,” Rin grits out.

“I know,” Haru deadpans. Rin looks ready to burst.

“Then-”

“Breakfast?” Haru asks, holding Rin's plate up to him.

“Haru, this is just rice.” Haru shrugs.

“You always complain about mackerel,” he says. Rin starts groaning low in his throat and Haru adds another tick to his mental victory column.

“Just give me some damn fish,” he says, sounding like he's in pain. Haru sets Rin's plate down to rest his hand on his hip.

“No. You just insult it,” he says. Rin's eye twitches.

“What the hell? Don't be stingy!” Rin steps towards him and Haru holds his plate up over their heads, glaring at him.

“Knock it off, I'm taller than you!” Rin says, grabbing for the plate. Haru swipes it out of the way and steps back.

“You can have some if you quit yelling,” Haru says. Rin glares.

“I am _not_ yelling,” he growls. Haru stares.

“You were, its exhausting,” he says. Rin throws up his hands.

“ _You're_ exhausting! Give me that!” he says snatching the plate from Haru's hands. Haru lets him take it. Rin mutters under his breath as he stabs half of Haru's fish onto his plate. Haru takes his plate back and wanders over to his the couch. Rin joins him a second later, not realizing Haru's tricked him into calming down. Haru eats quietly, knowing Rin won't have the patience for silence for long before breaking it.

“You should eat more meat,” he says sullenly, picking at his fish. Haru takes a piece from his plate.

“You don't have to eat it,” he says curtly.

“It's not like I came here for breakfast,” Rin says, sighing as Haru steals another chunk from him.

“Why _did_ you come here then?” Haru asks. He's pretty sure he knows, but he's also pretty sure Rin's answer is going to entertain him either way.

“Why do I get the feeling that you're just egging me on to piss me off?” Rin asks, narrowing his eyes. Haru blinks innocently back at him and shrugs. It doesn't really work.

“You know I'm not sure if I should be pissed that Macchan learned your name first or laugh that she thinks your name is _saba_ , of all things,” he says. Haru allows a small smile, and Rin sighs, dumping the rest of his food on Haru's plate.

“Eat up and wipe that smug look off your face, I am thrashing you in the pool today,” Rin says, already standing. Haru perks up at pool, and Rin laughs and shoves his hand in Haru's hair, completely ruining it.

“Knock it off,” he says, brushing Rin's hand back.

“Come on _Saba_ , time to meet your maker,” Rin smiles and Haru sighs, downplaying the excitement blooming in him. He finishes his last bite of fish and goes to his room to change. When he comes back out a few minutes later with his bag and a change of clothes, Rin is finishing up breakfast's dishes in his kitchen sink.

“I would have done that later,” Haru says, already impatient to get to the pool.

“Yeah, you're welcome,” Rin snorts, rolling his sleeves back down. Haru starts for the door, every intention of leaving him behind if he can't keep up. Luckily, Rin seems to fully anticipate this, and has his shoes on before Haru can open the door, slipping out behind him and leading the way down the stairs and towards the train station. Haru follows without complaint, happy enough to get to swim two days in a row. They get all the way to the train station in relative quiet, and Haru finally feels fully awake as they buy tickets and wait.

“You really surprised me,” Rin says from the bench next to him. Haru tilts his head in his direction, but doesn't speak.

“With Macchan,” Rin clarifies, turning to face Haru. “You're really good with her.” Haru feels warm and looks away.

“Why does that surprise you so much...” he says. Rin smiles.

“Nothing. I'm just impressed you two are so close already.” He says. Haru leans back against the station wall. He doesn't think he's necessarily good with her, but he can't deny the warm feeling he gets thinking about seeing her again. He wonders when exactly the pudgy little bean had crawled her way into his heart and settled inside. His hand wraps around his phone in his pocket, glad the password would keep Rin from seeing what he'd changed his background picture to earlier that morning.

“Could it be you only fell for Makoto because of Macchan?” Rin says, mock gasping. Haru shoves him and Rin starts laughing.

“I never knew you were so baby crazy,” he teases. Haru tries to push him off the bench, but Rin is solid next to him and only laughs harder.

“I am not,” he insists. Rin snorts and throws an unwelcome arm over Haru's shoulders.

“Its okay Haru, Macchan _is_ pretty cute. I'm sure you're not the first to fall for Makoto because of her charm,” he says, patting Haru's back comfortingly. Haru yanks his arm off in a huff.

“Shut up,” he says. “It's not like that.”

“Oh? It's not?” Rin's smile is predatory, and Haru realizes a second too late he's walked right into his hands.

“Shut up,” he says, looking away. Rin hums smugly next to him but lets him have his silence.

 

Haru crosses his arms over his chest and stands in front of a building that definitely does _not_ contain a pool and glares at Rin. Rin's looked awfully smug ever since he took the lead as they got off the train, and now Haru knows why.

“Rin,” he starts, refusing to step forward. Rin flashes his teeth at him.

“No backing out now Haru. Gym first, and if you behave I'll take you to the pool after lunch.” Haru glares.

“You tricked me,” he hisses. “I'm going home.” Rin has his phone out before Haru can act on his threat and Haru freezes.

“Yeah, he's outside, send me reinforcements,” Rin says into his phone, smiling at Haru the whole while. Haru gets the feeling he should probably run while he has the chance, but the door behind Rin bursts open and he knows it's far too late.

“Haruka!” Kou yells, running out to latch on to Haru's arm.

“Kou,” Haru says. Rin drapes an arm around Kou's shoulder and grabs Haru's other arm, both of them sharing the same unsettling grin.

“It's about time we got you to my gym, I can tell you've been slacking off just from your brachioradialis,” she says, tugging him with Rin towards the doors.

“My... what?” he asks, trying not to stumble over his own feet as he's dragged away.

“Oh, you don't want to start that conversation,” Rin says with a smirk.

“It's a muscle in your forearm,” Kou supplies happily, waving them in past reception.

“I don't even have gym clothes on me,” Haru says, glancing hopelessly out the door as Kou and Rin drag him deeper inside.

“Not a problem,” Rin says and Haru slumps, defeated.

“Good, go get changed and bring him back to me,” Kou tells Rin, finally releasing Haru. Haru rubs at his arm and takes another look at Kou as she gets flagged by a gym member.

“Don't even think of escaping,” Rin's voice comes from next to him, and he starts pulling him towards the locker room. “Kou is the most popular personal trainer here, she'll never let you live it down if you blow off a training session with her.”

“You planned this, didn't you?” Haru accuses. Rin throws a pile of exercise clothes at him and narrows his eyes.

“Why do you sound like you can't believe it, that kind of pisses me off,” Rin says, already changing into his own clothes. Haru just stares, taking the chance to look at Rin's tattoo a little closer than he had the last time he had seen it.

“Why did you get that?” he asks. Rin turns and catches him staring and blushes before looking away. He goes back to changing without answering and Haru frowns.

“Don't ignore me,” he says. Rin looks back at him and his expressionmakes Haru pause.

“Isn't it hard with that? The old man at the bath house in Iwatobi would never let you in with it,” Haru says. Rin snorts.

“Yeah well. I'm hardly even in Japan anymore anyway,” he says, closing the door of his locker. Haru pulls one of Rin's tanks over his shoulders.

“Don't tell me you didn't think and just got one because you thought it was cool,” Haru says. Rin smacks the back of his head and Haru nearly loses his balance changing pants.

“Of course not!” Rin says. Haru stares expectantly.

“Look, of course there's a reason, but you should probably hear it from Makoto.” Rin says rubbing at the back of his neck. That catches Haru off guard. He knew they got them done at the same time, but why couldn't Rin just tell him? Makoto kissing him in the pool flashes across his mind and he hesitates a second too long for Rin not to notice.

“How are you doing with him anyway? Make a move yet?” Rin asks. Haru slams his locker and heads towards the doors, face feeling hot.

“Oi!” Rin yells from behind him, easily catching up. Haru spots Kou and heads to her like a life line. He'd take the workout of his life over explaining himself right now, and from the glint in Kou's eyes, he just might get it.

 

Haru hasn't been this sore since the first time Makoto took him to the pool. Kou thoroughly exhausted him, worse than she ever was in high school. Every muscle is mad at him. He's too wiped out to even properly glare at Rin, who despite going through the same routine, has no problem standing on his own.

“I hate you,” Haru says under his breath, feeling like he won't be able to leave the bench in the locker room on his own for at least an hour. Rin only laughs and passes him a water bottle.

“That's what you get for not taking care of yourself,” Rin says, sitting heavily next to him to tie his shoes. Haru drinks deeply, ignoring him.

“I got you set up with Gou. Weekly sessions with her.” Rin says. Haru shakes his head.

“Gotta watch Mariko,” he says. He knows its an excuse. He doesn't care. Rin smiles innocently.

“I know that, we worked you in anyway,” he says. Haru blinks at him.

“How do _you_ know when I'll have time?” he asks. Rin rubs the sweat off his face with a towel, taking the water back from Haru and draining it.

“This might come as a shock but some people actually _pick up the phone_ when I call them,” Rin says.

“Whatever. Can we swim now?” he asks hopefully. Rin snorts.

“Well, you've been good so as soon as you can walk we can go,” he says. Haru swats at him and misses terribly. Rin laughs and Haru manages a glare, but the pool is calling him and he lets it slide.

 

Somehow, _impossibly_ , he's even more wrung out after swimming. Rin hums to himself in the shower stall next to Haru, in a great mood after beating Haru in all their races. Haru smiles and yanks the water on. Cool water crashes over him, and his skin warms as it does. He rolls his shoulder, feeling the deep burn in his back. He's going to be sore, but he can't bring himself to care. He's feeling peaceful and content, the ache in his muscles familiar and nostalgic.

He catches Rin mumbling lyrics under his breath over the sound of the water and shakes his head. It would figure Rin was the one to drag him back into this world. He scrubs halfheartedly at his hair, barely letting the shampoo lather before ducking back under the stream to rinse it back out. There's a balance, he thinks, that the same thing to put the ache in his muscles in the first place is what helps relieve it now.

When he finally comes out of the shower Rin is already dressed, towel draped around his shoulders as he thumbs through something on his phone. He looks relaxed, and Haru's mildly annoyed at how comfortable he appears. He manages to dig a towel out of his locker and slip out of his jammers, and nearly loses his balance stepping into his underwear when Rin speaks.

“I'm inviting Makoto to go get dinner with us,” he says casually. Haru stomps to keep from falling, but Rin's eyes don't leave his phone.

“What?” he manages. Rin blinks up at him and smiles.

“I'm rewarding you for behaving today,” he says smugly. Haru narrows his eyes.

“You just want to see Mariko,” he accuses. Rin only smiles wider and doesn't argue.

“He's probably already waiting for us,” Rin mumbles. Haru tugs on his shirt, balling up Rin's clothes and tossing them at him. Rin catches them without looking up, shoving them in his bag as his phone beeps at him.

“Thought so. Come on Haru, he's waiting a few blocks away,” Rin says. Haru has little choice but to follow him out. His arms still feel like lose rubber bands, but knowing he'll see Makoto soon helps. They wave to the staff on the way out, and Haru follows Rin as he walks down the street. His thoughts drift around, and before he knows it, Rin is ducking into a little restaurant tucked behind a post office.

Someone behind the counter greets them and as soon as Haru's eyes adjust to the dim lighting he spots Makoto at a table in the corner, Mariko squirming on his lap. Haru feels himself relaxing into a smile, and when Makoto looks up and makes eye contact he lets it happen. Rin coughs loudly next to him and Haru snaps out if it.

“Anything you want to tell me?” he says, elbowing Haru and smiling.

“Not really,” he says, walking past him to pull up a seat next to Makoto.

“Saba!” Mariko wiggles and reaches out towards him as soon as she spots him and Haru can't fight the smile on his face. Makoto smiles and hands her over, and Mariko stands wobbly on Haru's lap to put her hands on his face.

“Hello,” he says, holding her elbows to help her balance.

“Saba,” she chirps happily, her face bumping into his.

“Unbelievable,” Rin sounds exasperated as he sits across from them. Makoto only smiles.

“Hello to you too Rin,” he says. “Hi Haru.” Haru nods. Makoto shifts imperceptibly closer, letting their knees knock together.

“Did you two have a good gym day?” Makoto asks, sipping his water. Something clicks and Haru looks over Mariko's head to look at Makoto.

“You were in on it,” he says. Rin snorts and Makoto looks at him for help.

“Hey it's not like we're the only ones doing something behind their friends backs, huh Haru?” Rin says, pointedly looking between Makoto and Haru. Makoto raises an eyebrow at Haru, and Haru stiffens up next to him.

“Rin,” Makoto starts and Haru shoots him a look. “If you had more free time I'd let you watch Mariko too.” Makoto says, smiling innocently. Haru isn't sure if he's relieved or not that Makoto seems to understand he doesn't want to tell Rin what's changed between them. Rin slumps in his seat and pokes at Mariko, making her giggle and coo.

“It's so unfair, _I'm_ the favorite,” Rin pouts. Makoto pats his arm consolingly.

“I'm sure she'll learn your name soon enough,” he says. Rin sighs. The waitress comes for their orders, and by the time food comes Mariko is in Rin's lap, and they've been talking about Kou's intense training regimen. Haru eats quietly, hungrier after his long day than he'd anticipated. He learns Makoto used to train with her, and feels a little bit better about being so sore from his time with her when Makoto animatedly whines about how she periodically kicks his ass in the gym. Makoto presses their legs together under the table, a quiet reassurance only Haru can see. He presses his back, and Makoto doesn't pause the conversation to shoot him a smile.

“Come to think of it, your birthday is coming up isn't it?” Rin asks, scooping up the last few bites off his plate. Makoto rubs the back of his neck and smiles weakly.

“Yeah, I guess so. I hadn't really noticed,” he says. Rin shakes his head.

“Come on, there's got to be something you want?” Rin asks. Makoto looks to Haru and Haru waits for his answer. He's been thinking about it ever since Mariko's birthday, but he hasn't figured out what to get Makoto yet anymore than it looks like Rin has.

“It's not a big deal, really,” Makoto says when he gets no help from Haru. Haru frowns.

“Then it's not a big deal if we get you something, right?” he says. Rin grins.

“About time you back me up, Haru.So, what'll it be?” Makoto looks a little flushed as they both lean in to hear his answer.

“Um, you can stop calling me _beefcake_ in front of my family?” Makoto asks sheepishly. Rin barks out a laugh.

“Not happening,” he says smugly. “Your mother is so proud.” Makoto slumps.

“You guys don't have to get me anything. Really!” he says at the look Haru and Rin give him. Rin leans across the table to Haru, effectively shutting Makoto out of the conversation.

“Right, so what are you thinking, dinner, cake, that whole thing?” He says.

“I'll cook,” Haru offers. There's a low whine from his side and they ignore it.

“Not mackerel though. I'll invite some people over,” Rin adds. Haru nods. He'll make an exception and cook whatever Makoto wants.

“Makoto's place is probably best,” Haru says. Rin agrees.

“I don't get a say in this, do I?” Makoto asks aloud on the other side of the table.

“No,” Haru and Rin say in unison. Makoto pouts into his soda.

“I'll see if Nagisa and Rei need a ride,” Rin says pulling out his phone. Haru gets his out and starts a shopping list.

“I'm right here,” Makoto says helplessly. Mariko taps at Rin's phone with him and Haru catches Rin typing a note to get something for Mariko to stay occupied with too. Haru smiles and adds it to his shopping list. They spend the next few minutes shushing Makoto's weak protests and planning out a small party and when Haru looks at Makoto he almost feels guilty. There's a mix of a pout at being left out and a little embarrassment, but it melts into a little smile when Haru squeezes his knee under the table. Rin glares between them but can't see anything he can put his finger on, and Haru blinks innocently at him, knowing he's not giving anything away.

When Mariko starts to nod off in Rin's arms they decide to call it a night. It's already dark outside and the crisp air sends a shiver down Haru's back as he adjusts to it. Makoto zips Mariko up in his coat, and Haru tries not to be jealous when she settles in against him.

“Do you guys want a ride? I have the truck,” Makoto says. Rin answers before Haru can.

“Nah, the walk to the station will be good after all the food,” he says. He watches Haru, waiting for him to argue. Haru doesn't take the bait.

“Alright,” Makoto says, unsure. “Then, I'll see you tomorrow Haru?”

“Course,” he says, stepping in close. Makoto smiles at him and Rin grabs Haru's sleeve, dragging him towards the station.

“Goodnight Makoto! I'll come visit soon!” Rin says, pulling Haru along with him. Makoto laughs and waves weakly after them, and Haru shoots him an apologetic look.

“Jeez what was that Haru, that's embarrassing even for me,” Rin says, releasing him once they're a safe distance away.

“You have baby spit on your shirt,” Haru says. Rin's eyes shoot wide and he yells, and Haru counts another small victory as he takes the lead to the train. He doesn't have to explain anything, yet.

It isn't until he's crawling his way under his heavy quilt that he realizes he didn't actually say goodnight to Makoto. It's a silly thing to worry about, but he braves the chill of the stale air in his room to find his phone anyway. _'Glad you had fun with Rin today, I'll see you in the morning'_ followed by _'Goodnight Haru'_ wait for him. Haru shouldn't have worried. He smiles and sends his own back, not expecting an answer. For now, it's enough that whatever he and Makoto have is just for them.

 

Makoto feels impatient driving home after work. None of the minimal amount of traffic he has to get through seems to move fast enough. He turns on the radio and tries not to get annoyed. He'd had a good shift at the station, even if it was a little boring, but now he just wants to get back to his house. Mariko and Haru were waiting for him. He'd get back, have breakfast, waste the day with them before going swimming in the evening with and after his class.

He checks his phone at the stoplight and isn't surprised he only has a few messages from Nagisa and one from Sousuke. Even though he's light years better using a phone than he was in high school, Makoto gets the feeling Haru still doesn't care for it. _But he's trying_ , Makoto thinks with a smile.

Its weird, he thinks, how quickly he's fallen into a habit with Haru in his life. He makes a turn and smiles at the empty street connecting to his neighborhood. Maybe it's not weird at all, really. He had a similar routine with Haru for most of his life, the only unusual part was that it paused for a few years somewhere in the middle.

It still makes him frown, even as he spots his house around the corner. There was still too much unsaid between them. It was an unexpected fog on a clear day, settling in around him whether he wanted it to or not. He pulls into his driveway and sighs. It wasn't like it was Haru's fault. Makoto hasn't volunteered much about himself during the interim any more than Haru had, after all.

He opens the door and the smell of breakfast helps burn off the fog. It was too early to dwell, Makoto thinks. By the time he rounds the corner and Haru looks over his shoulder to greet him, Makoto has forgotten all about it.

“Morning,” Haru says before turning back to the food he's working on. His hair is still damp, and Makoto feels a little warm realizing Haru must have gotten himself out of the bath early to get up and cook for him.

“Good morning, Haru,” he says and wraps his arms around Haru's shoulders. Haru frowns at him but doesn't protest so Makoto squeezes him tighter before letting him go to set up the table. Mariko chirps sleepily at him and Makoto nudges and tickles her until she breaks out into a giggle.

Haru finishes up the cooking, so Makoto takes care of drinks and dishes. He's feeling indulgent this morning, so cream and sugar plop into his coffee before he takes it and Haru's tea to the table. Haru watches without comment, and Makoto just smiles at him. He'd never actually lived with Haru. Even when they went to college in Tokyo they had separate apartments, but he likes to think it'd be something like this.

Haru takes the seat next to him and looks at him curiously, but Makoto just smiles and slides his tea over to him.

“How was your day?” he starts. “Was Mariko good for you?” Haru scoffs.

“She's always good,” he says. Makoto can read the fondness in the way his face softens when she catches his attention. Makoto rests his head in a palm and watches them, food temporarily forgotten. _They look good together_ , he thinks. Haru catches him staring and looks away, so Makoto takes a bite to buy himself some time.

“How was work?” Haru asks, still looking away. Makoto hums. Not much had happened over his last shift, but he fills the quiet morning with a few stories anyway. Even when they didn't have catastrophes to go to, it wasn't like they just sat around and played cards. Not always, anyway. There was always something to do in the downtime, and while some of the more tedious manual labor could be boring, his coworkers made it interesting. Souta told him stories about his younger siblings that had Makoto hunched over laughing while they scrubbed and cleaned. Megumi could sing like nobody's business, and often dragged everyone else into joining her when it got too quiet.

He's happy to share these parts of himself with Haru, and as he listens and eats, Makoto can't help but think Tatsumi was right. He had talked to him about Haru, and Tatsumi hadn't let him down. _Let him go at his own pace,_ he had told him. _It sounds like he's been alone and hurting, so don't push him. Just support him, I know you can do that._

Makoto could do that. Makoto could fill the space Haru wasn't ready to step into yet. He'd decided a long time ago to help however he could, so he talks. Makoto talks, and just between their eyes he gets across that he'd be just as happy to let Haru talk, when he's ready. Something changes in the set of Haru's shoulders, and years of reading him tell Makoto that Haru understands.

“You must be tired, working all the time,” he says. Makoto just shrugs.

“I have a lot of help,” he says. He smiles pointedly at Haru and Haru looks away and finishes his tea.

“You still work too much,” he says with a frown peeking out from behind his mug. Makoto laughs but cuts himself short when Haru glares back at him.

“Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. You aren't the first person to tell me that, is all,” he says. Haru seems to accept that, and Makoto leans back in his chair.

  


“I'm fine. Besides, I'm sure you've had rough patches with work over the years too,” he says. Haru chews slowly, thinking out his answer. Makoto had caught him off guard, but it's an opening he could use. Makoto's gotten good at that, carefully leaving openings Haru could use to talk about himself or simply ignore and continue the conversation. This particular one appeals to him.

“I had a couple part time jobs,” he says before he can change his mind. Makoto's eyebrows shoot up and Haru scratches his neck. Makoto won't push him, so Haru sighs and pushes himself.

“Nothing interesting, I always quit after a little while..” he says. Makoto nods and sets his mug down. Neither of them have food or drink left to distract them.

“Except?” Makoto prompts gently. Haru nearly smiles. Of course Makoto can tell he's leaving something out.

“Except this cafe I worked at. I stayed there a long time,” he says. Makoto perks up.

“A cafe? Were you a barrista?” he asks. Haru snorts.

“More like a chef,” he says. Makoto smiles so widely Haru has to look away.

“That's amazing Haru! You've always been a good cook, I bet you were great at it,” he says. Haru doesn't react, and instead uncrosses his legs only to recross them. Makoto stands with their dishes, poking at Mariko on his way to the sink. Haru taps his fingers before taking a breath.

“Actually.” he says. He has to raise his voice a little to be heard over the running water, and it nearly changes his mind. Makoto turns halfway to face him, his eyebrows drawn up and waiting for Haru to continue.

“I've been thinking about going back,” he says. He stares at the grain of the table.

“Oh,” Makoto says. Haru can't place the emotion behind it, but when he looks up at Makoto his back is already turned. He starts back on the dishes, but something is off in his stance and it makes Haru shift in his seat.

“What?” he asks. Makoto flinches back to look at him, face screwing up into an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. That's great, really. If that's what you want you should go for it,” he says. Haru thinks it's supposed to be his reassuring voice, but it falls flat. Haru stares at him until he wipes his wet hands on his pants and runs one through his hair.

“I can find someone to watch Mariko, it's no problem. Sorry,” he says.

“No,” Haru interrupts before Makoto can say anything else. “No I can still watch her. I'd only work part time,” he says.

“Oh,” Makoto says. “Oh. Are- Is that really okay?” he asks. Makoto looks visibly relieved when Haru nods, and it takes a second before it sinks in that Makoto probably jumped to an even worse conclusion. Makoto laughs to himself and turns the tap back on, and ropes twist around Haru's chest. It must have seemed like Haru was leaving him again, even in a small way, and Haru can't bear it. He stands so abruptly Makoto nearly drops the plate he's washing.

“Haru?”

“Do you want to see?” Haru asks. Makoto blinks at him. “I can take you there before your class.”

The surprise on Makoto's face melts into a warm smile and this time Haru doesn't look away, catching the crinkles at the corners of Makoto's eyes.

“I'd love to see it,” Makoto says. Haru quietly lets out his breath.

“Okay,” he says. Makoto echoes him with a smile.

“Okay.”

They finish the dishes together, and Makoto heads upstairs to change while Haru gets their stuff together. Within the hour, they're piled into the truck and Haru is quietly directing Makoto to a part of his past, a nervous excitement buzzing in his bones. He hasn't really told anyone about Sucre, but he's happy Makoto will be the first.

They pull up to the familiar parking lot, and Haru goes in first while Makoto fights the car seat. The cafe is fairly busy for the time of day, and Mai is too busy with her customer to do anything more than shoot him a smile when he comes in. One of her employees asks if he can get Haru anything, and Haru politely declines to wait for Mai herself.

“Haruka-kun, you're back so soon!” she says happily to him once she's done with her customer.

“I said I would come back,” he says with a frown. Mai just giggles. Before they can talk more, the bell rings above the door and Makoto comes in with Mariko riding on his shoulders and hanging on by his ears. Mai makes a sound in her throat and when Haru knits his eyebrows and looks back at her, she looks like she's won the lottery.

“ _Dibs._ Watch and learn,” she tells him with a wink. Haru nearly laughs out loud. If Mai was going to try her usual flirting on Makoto, Haru had absolutely no problem staying to watch the fallout. She straightens her shirt as Makoto makes his way over, and Haru has to turn his head to hide his face.

“This place looks amazing,” Makoto says when Mai greets him.

“Are you sure it's not just me?” Mai asks sweetly. Makoto only smiles and laughs. Haru has to bite the inside of his cheek. She wasn't wasting any time today. Haru's impressed Makoto isn't blushing from a line like that, but maybe he just didn't pick up on it. Mariko squirms on his head and he lugs her down into his arms.

“Well hello there, cutie,” Mai says. Makoto is close enough to the counter for Mai to reach out and pat Mariko's head, and Mariko looks to Makoto questioningly when she does. Haru watches in mild fascination. He's never seen Mariko so lukewarm to someone, and he feels privately vindicated remembering how she acted meeting him.

“Aw, I'm not mommy, huh?” Mai says with an exaggerated pout. Haru stiffens but Makoto only smiles.

“Don't take it personally, she wouldn't know anyway,” he says. Haru's eyes blow wide but neither of them seem to notice. He'd thought for sure talking about the lack of a mother in Mariko's life would be taboo, but Makoto hardly seems phased.

“Oh, so I still have a chance then?” Mai laughs.

“I think I'm the one who doesn't stand a chance,” Makoto returns smoothly. Haru's impressed. Mai's smile turns predatory and Haru coughs before she can embarrass herself further.

“So! What can I get for you, handsome?” she asks, shooting Haru a 'don't interrupt' look. Haru blinks back disinterestedly at her.

“Hmm.. Everything looks really good.. Haru, what do you think?” Makoto asks. Haru leans in to peer into the glass case, humming as if in thought. Mai makes a sound like she's choking and Haru ignores it.

“Wait-”

“You're just going to get something chocolate so does it really matter?” Haru asks. Makoto frowns.

“Haruu,” Makoto whines. “I don't always get just chocolate!”

“Hold on-”

“Do you want me to just get what I got last time?” Haru asks.

“You know Haruka-kun?!” Mai finally blurts out. Makoto blinks up at her.

“I should hope so, he brought me here after all,” he says with a little chuckle. Haru holds out a hand to Mariko and she giggles and paws at him. Mai's face blanks while she tries to put everything together and Haru lets the corners of his lips tug up into an almost-smile. Makoto looks between them innocently as Mariko squirms her way out of his arms and into Haru's.

“ _Merde_ ,” she mutters under her breath. Haru doesn't laugh, but it's a close call. He's heard that one enough to understand it.

“ _This_ is the friend you were talking about? Are you kidding me?” she hisses at Haru, one hand hiding her mouth as if she could keep Makoto from hearing her. “Have you _seen_ him?” Haru smiles above Mariko's head.

“Haru talked about me? How rare,” Makoto says, gently moving the focus off himself. Mai slumps on the counter.

“Barely! This troublesome guy never talks about anything!” she complains. Haru frowns when Makoto seems to agree with her.

“I only learned about this place this morning,” Makoto says. They're already complaining together, Haru thinks. He knew they'd get along. Mai clutches at the chest of her apron as if struck with a sharp pain.

“That's so cold Haruka-kun! How could you?”

“Honestly,” Makoto adds, unhelpfully. Haru glares but Mariko blows bubbles at him and he can't even stay mad at them ganging up on him.

“Mai, this is my friend Tachibana Makoto and his daughter, Mariko,” he surrenders with a sigh. Makoto smiles and bows and takes Mai's hand when she extends it to him.

“Laurent Mai, it's a pleasure to meet you both,” she says. Haru's impressed with her smooth recovery. “I'm so sorry about earlier, but well. Have _you_ seen you?”

“I do okay,” he says with a shrug. Mai snorts and settles her hands on her hips.

“I bet you do,” she says. “Why don't you get a table and I'll bring something out for you.”

They take a table and Mai disappears into the kitchen after shooting Haru a look that says she's far from done with him, and after a moment one of her employees brings them coffee on the house. Haru tilts the saucer of cream into his while Makoto sips his as it comes, trying to take in as much as he can with his eyes. Haru nudges his foot under the table to get his attention. Makoto sets his cup down and smiles at him.

“I was just thinking.. This place has a really good feeling to it. It's warm,” he says. Haru frowns at him. It's a bakery, after all. He tells Makoto as much and Makoto shakes his head.

“It's a different kind of warm, it's kind of hard to explain but... I'm just glad you found somewhere like this for yourself, I guess,” Makoto says. “It feels like the Takagawa's. It's nice.”

“I guess so,” Haru says. He's not sure he understands, but Mai is coming from the kitchen with a tray and he doesn't have time to wonder about it when she sits herself down between them, pile of fresh fluffy beignets and silky melted chocolate in delicate porcelain covering her tray.

“Help yourself Tachibana-kun, any friend of Haruka-kun's is more than welcome here. And a little overdue, honestly,” she says, looking at Haru.

“Thank you, but just call me Makoto,” Makoto says easily.

“Then call me Mai,” she says just as easily. _That was quick_ , Haru thinks. “So, tell me everything. How do you know Haruka-kun?”

“We grew up together,” he says. “Wow, these are really really good!” Mai smiles and pushes the saucer of chocolate towards him.

“Grew up together, and I'm only meeting you today,” she tsks. Haru tears off a corner of a beignet for Mariko, ignoring them both.

“You know he worked here for five years and you're the first friend I've met?” she says. Haru keeps his eyes trained on Mariko. He can see Makoto's hands come to rest on the table, but he doesn't look up.

“I didn't know, actually,” Makoto says quietly. “Maybe he just wanted to keep you to himself?” Makoto adds with a laugh. Mai joins him.

“Oh, I like you already, Makoto,” she says. They fall into an easy chat about the cafe, and Haru looks back up. Mai sips her own drink while Makoto nibbles on the beignets, both of them smiling and laughing together like they were the ones with a history.For a second, something sharp twists in Haru's chest. Mai and Makoto look comfortable with each other, look good with each other, and for a second, Haru is the one looking in. It hits him that Makoto probably looked like this many times over the years they were apart, with Tatsumi or with Satomi or any number of others Haru doesn't even know about.

As if he can sense something like that, Makoto turns those eyes on him. He keeps talking to Mai, but his eyes soften and warm in Haru's direction, in a way Haru is starting to understand is just for him. Mariko bounces happily on his knees in her own clumsy brand of comfort. It eases the clenching in his stomach, and he lets out a deep breath and smiles. Makoto wasn't here for Mai, or pastries or coffee. Makoto was here with him, right now, and the rest doesn't really matter.

He clears his throat before Makoto can answer any more embarrassing questions about him, and turns his chair towards Mai when she shoots him a questioning smile.

“I thought about it,” he says casually. Mai's eyebrows shoot up and Haru looks to the side.

“Only part time but..... If you'll have me,” he finishes quietly. The table goes quiet and for a moment Haru thinks he's too late, or she's changed her mind or something else is wrong.

“Of course I'd love to have you back! We can work something out!” she beams at him. He looks up and catches Makoto's even smile next to Mai's blinding one, and quickly looks back to Mariko. He's not sure how he found people capable of letting him just waltz back into their lives like he is, but he's glad he did.

“Thank you,” he says. Mai claps her hands together and starts gushing to Makoto about how helpful Haru was and how excited she was to get him back, and Haru joins the conversation to keep her from getting carried away.

They finish the beignets, Mariko somehow getting at least two for herself, and finish their coffee. At some point Mai snaps her fingers until someone brings her her planner, and they go over a schedule for Haru that works with Makoto's. Makoto pulls out his wallet to pay and Mai shoos him away, asserting that meeting him and Mariko was worth much more than coffee and pastries, so Makoto counters by buying a mixed box like the one Haru had brought him all those months ago.

It sits carefully tucked between them on the seat of the truck as Makoto drives to the pool, low music playing quietly around them. Haru's relieved he made it through the visit to the cafe with his pride intact, although if he's honest with himself it went better than expected. He was worried Mai would make a spectacle of him, or leak things about his time working there he wasn't quite ready for Makoto to hear yet. He didn't need to damp down the good mood they'd finally built back up around them by letting him know just how bad he had been without him.

They hit a bump in the road and Mariko squeals and giggles, and Makoto snorts into a laugh with her. Haru lets himself smile at them. It's harder and harder to remember what it was like to not smile everyday, and he feels like if he sticks with these two loose Tachibanas, he might not have to remember it at all.

“I was a little worried,” Makoto says, catching Haru off guard. “When you said you were going back there but...” Makoto leans to look around his shoulder before merging in, and Haru waits patiently for him to continue.

“But there's a good feeling there. I'm really glad you have somewhere like that,” he says. Haru nods. He _has_ missed the place.

“And I can tell Mai likes you,” Makoto says with a knowing smile. Haru sighs.

“She tried that on me too,” he says and Makoto laughs.

“Well, there's nothing wrong with going after what you want I suppose,” Makoto says and Haru huffs.

“Besides, I can tell she really cares about you,” Makoto says and Haru's hands twist around themselves in his lap.

“I. Probably haven't been the best to her,” he admits. There's no judgment when Makoto's eyes soften at him.

“Looks like you've got a chance to make up for it now,” he says. “ _Chef._ ” Haru shoots him a look.

“Don't be late for your class, _Coach_ ,” he says. Makoto laughs and this time Mariko joins, tired of being left out.

“Alright, alright. Lets get you in a pool Haru,” he says. Haru couldn't agree more.

  


The little diner they ended up for dinner was close enough to the station for Haru to walk to, but somehow he finds himself dutifully following Makoto back to his truck. It got dark sometime while they were swimming, and even though he's dried off by now the chill has him fighting shivers. Annoyingly, Makoto seems immune to the cold, his thick muffler only a decoration until he bundles Mariko up in it. Haru shoves his hands in his pockets and waits for Makoto to strap her in her car seat.

He's not as exhausted as he has been over the last few weeks, but he's full and his mind is quiet from swimming, and he's really just thinking of warm blankets and soft pillows when Makoto's voice cuts into his thoughts.

“You should stay the night,” he says. Haru's hands go cold in his pockets. _You should stay the night._ Does he mean...? Haru swallows dryly. Pinches his lips and still doesn't know what to say. It's not like he hasn't thought about it. The silence drags while he tries to decide how to answer. The implication of what he said must hit Makoto because the next thing he hears is the back of Makoto's head thunking into the roof of the truck when he jolts up abruptly.

“Wa- No- That's- That's not what I meant Haru!” he blurts. Haru watches him flounder, one hand waving frantically in front of him while the other rubs the back of his probably bruised head.

“Really! No pressure okay, I just meant you can sleep over, ah but not like that!” Haru snorts and covers the bottom of his face with a hand.

“Okay,” he says, trying really hard not to laugh at Makoto's flustered face. Makoto looks like he's not sure he heard Haru right so Haru just walks around to the passenger side and climbs in the truck, giving Makoto a moment to collect himself. When Makoto slides into his seat a moment later with an embarrassed little smile, Haru has to practically sit on his hands to keep them to himself. _He's kind of cute_ , Haru thinks to himself, firmly looking out the window as Makoto rumbles the old truck to life and drives them back. _When did that happen?_

Even though Makoto reassured him they were only going to sleep, and Haru agreed to it, it's still awkward when they make it back to his house and stand stiffly in front of the only bed in Makoto's house. They stand in front of it in their pajamas, nervously shifting their weights from foot to foot, stuck in a stalemate. They'd shared beds before, but Haru steals a glance at Makoto when he wraps his arms around himself and can't help but feel like this was still a first for them. It's different now that he knows what Makoto's lips feel like against his, now that he knows how his heart can pound right out of his chest from just being close to him.

Haru's about to give up and head back downstairs to the relative safety of the sofa when Makoto exhales loudly and breaks the silence. Haru looks at him and is met with a quiet smile.

“Come on. At least its big enough,” he says nodding towards the bed.

“You'll still probably take up the whole bed though,” Haru says with a small sigh. Makoto smiles a little wider and doesn't argue. Haru quietly steps around the side opposite from the one Makoto chooses and hesitates for only a second before sliding himself under the covers after him.

They lay on their backs, blankets drawn up to their chests, and don't speak. There's enough space between them that they could probably fit a third person, but neither of them seem ready to close that gap.

“Is this as awkward as when you had to share a bed with Rin in Australia?” Makoto laughs nervously. Haru grimaces at the memory.

“No. This is better,” he says and Makoto relaxes.

“I'm glad,” Makoto says. Haru settles down on his pillow and closes his eyes. The bed shifts next to him and his eyes fly open just in time to see Makoto lean down over him, kissing his forehead before retreating back to his side of the bed and clicking off the light.

“Goodnight Haru,” he says. Haru blinks towards the darkness where he knows Makoto must be, heart beating loud in his hears. He counts slowly as it calms down, waiting before he tries answering.

“Goodnight,” he says finally. He shifts onto his side and sees Makoto's face hovering over his when he closes his eyes. He can hear Makoto breathing evenly next to him, totally ignorant to what he's putting Haru through. This was a bad idea, there's no way he can sleep now.

Mariko snores quietly in her sleep, and Haru lays wide awake listening to her and the sounds of the house settling around him. He's gotten used to the sounds of this weird place, and he can pick out the low hum of the refrigerator and separate it from the quiet buzzing of the heat and the wind against the windows. On a normal night, it's hardly noticeable to him anymore.

He lifts his head and turns to look over at the other side of the bed. His eyes adjust slowly, and he can just make out Makoto's still form. Still laying on his back, Makoto's blank face is turned ever so slightly in Haru's direction. Haru rests his head back on his pillow. This wasn't like a normal night at _all_.

It's impossible to tell how much time passes over Haru as he lays there and stares at the wall. He's trying to sleep, but it just won't come to him. He's about to give up and sneak out to find his sketchbook when Makoto speaks and Haru freezes.

“Hey Haru... you awake?” he asks so quietly it surely wouldn't have woken him if he had been asleep. Haru sighs and rolls over.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Me too, I can't sleep.”

“Me neither.”

“It's kind of silly isn't it?” Makoto laughs.

“Hm,” Haru adds. They lapse back into an easy silence, but Makoto doesn't let it linger.

“Haru? Are you really okay with this?” he says softly. Haru wishes he could see him clearer so he can make himself understood. But it's dark, so he settles on scooting himself a little closer.

“Yeah,” he says. If anything he should be the one asking. He doesn't know why its so hard for Makoto to believe when Haru was just... Haru.

“Are you upset that I didn't tell Rin?” he asks when it comes to him. He could have, _should_ have probably.

“What? No, no that doesn't bother me. We can go at your pace Haru,” Makoto is quick to correct.

“...Thank you,” he says. He can just make out the pale white of Makoto's teeth when he smiles at him.

“Did I tell you Ran made it to nationals this year?” he says. Haru shakes his head and Makoto must have enough sight to make it out in the darkness because he continues.

“Judo, can you believe it?” he says. Haru can hear the pride in his voice.

“Throwing Ren around all the time paid off?” he says and Makoto laughs.

“Something like that. Ren went to regionals too.”

“Judo?”

“Nope. Swimming,” Makoto smiles.

“The swim club is still around?” Haru asks. It seems impossible with how hard it was for them to recruit members when they were in it.

“Going strong, yeah. Ren's captain this year,” Makoto says. Haru thinks of the little boy who would hang off his shoulders and cry when his sister picked on him and smiles.

“You all work too much,” he grumbles. Makoto laughs.

“A Tachibana fault, I suppose,” he says. Haru smiles. As if they had any real faults.

“Your parents?” he asks after awhile.

“Mm, dad got promoted. Mom went back to work when the twins hit high school. She's been promoted twice now, actually,” he says. Haru doesn't know if he should roll his eyes or laugh.

“They could retire early, but I think they're going to keep working for another couple years so they have a better retirement,” Makoto says.

“A Tachibana fault,” Haru agrees. Makoto doesn't disagree.

“You should come to dinner sometime, maybe you can convince the rest of us to relax a bit,” Makoto says. This time Haru does roll his eyes.

“Seems unlikely,” he says. “But, I'll think about it.”

“They'd all love to see you again,” Makoto says. Guilt twists around low in Haru's stomach and he knows he's lost.

“I'll think about it,” he says, defeated. Makoto only hums and smiles, knowing more than was good for him.

They share the quiet then, peaceful. At some point it's started raining outside, the soft hiss and patter against the roof and windows soothing in the warmth of Makoto's house. Haru's eyelids get heavier, and he wonders if Makoto has already drifted off.

“Tell me about the cafe,” Makoto says with a yawn.

“Sucre?” Makoto nods. Haru's not surprised he has questions.

“They were hiring and I needed something...” _to get me out of my apartment_ , he doesn't add. He shifts a little uncomfortably.

“I have a hard time imagining you turning in a resume and applying for something,” Makoto says. Haru bites his lip.

“I didn't... do any of that,” he admits. “I told Mai I could cook, and she told me to prove it. So I did,” he says simply. He leaves out that it only happened after it was clear Haru didn't actually technically have any qualifications to work at Sucre, but Mai gave him a shot anyway.

“I bet you cooked her mackerel, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Haha, it worked right?”

“Hmpf,” Haru huffs.

“You liked it there? You must have if you're going back.” Haru shrugs before remembering Makoto probably can't tell it apart from stretching.

“Mai lets me stay in the kitchen so I don't have to deal with customers, and I like the work so..” The more he thinks about it, he really does owe Mai more than he admits. He'll have to think about how to thank her.

“It's good to get out of the house and not think about anything for a couple hours except cake and pastries and ganache,” he says with a yawn. It was far behind swimming, and even drawing, but Haru had found he could lose himself in baking in a similar way, and there was no denying it had helped him when he needed it.

“They are really delicious too,” Makoto says wistfully and Haru breathes out a little laugh. They let the silence grow, and Haru thinks that might be the end of it.

“Haru,” Makoto says. Haru turns to face him again, but Makoto is staring straight ahead, unblinking.

“There's still a lot... That we haven't said,” he says. Haru holds his breath as Makoto turns and finally looks at him.

“So, make a deal with me?” Haru nods for him to go on. “I'll try to answer anything if you'll do the same, okay? When you're ready.” Haru swallows the lump in his throat and takes his turn looking at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” his voice comes out throaty and rough, but there's nothing he can do about it.

“In that case...” Makoto starts and Haru braces himself. He wonders what personal thing Makoto wants to dredge up after making him promise a thing like that.

“Want to get a little closer?” Makoto says, completely catching Haru off guard. His wide eyes look over to him and Makoto smiles and lifts the blankets up, inviting him in. Haru breathes out a surprised laugh and he scoots himself closer, letting Makoto wrap himself around him. Makoto nudges his head up and pushes his arm under Haru's head and pulls the covers back up around both of them.

“Your arm is going to fall asleep,” Haru points out. He isn't sure if Makoto is just that warm or if more blood is rushing to his face again. Makoto breathes out a laugh and Haru feels it through his arm.

“I'll be out long before I feel it,” he says. Makoto yawns again and presses his mouth into Haru's hair, mumbling a second goodnight. Haru breathes as quietly as he can, listening to his own heart beat and Makoto's breathing getting deeper and deeper before carefully leaning up to kiss him back and whisper his own goodnight. Makoto doesn't stir, and Haru settles back against his arm.

It isn't anywhere near as awkward as he had expected it to be, sleeping in someone's arms. He wonders if he's only so comfortable because it's Makoto, and decides that it probably is. Tentatively, he lets one of his hands rest on top of Makoto's chest, hand curling in the blankets over them. Makoto is warm and solid against him, and the last thing Haru thinks before he starts to drift off is only that it's _definitely_ because it's Makoto, and he can't ever imagine himself being half as comfortable with someone else.

  


Makoto blinks himself awake slowly the next morning, enjoying the warmth of his bed for a few precious moments before responsibility starts kicking in and telling him he needs to get out of bed and start his day. It takes until his eyes adjust to the early morning light peeking in through his curtains that he remembers falling asleep with Haru on his arm, and he's pleasantly surprised to find him still in his bed, curled up on his side around Makoto's arm. He smiles and brushes the hair out of Haru's face, gently extricating himself when Haru doesn't wake.

When he comes back from the bathroom, Haru's curled up even tighter on his side, one of Makoto's spare pillows hugged tight to his chest. Makoto's heart swells, and he takes a quick mental inventory of what he has to get done today before deciding he can afford a few more hours in bed. He grabs the book he's been trying to read and slips his cold feet back into bed, carefully wrapping himself back around Haru to lend him some warmth.

“...Koto,” Haru mumbles when Makoto rearranges them. Makoto freezes, but Haru only turns his face into him and keeps sleeping.

“I'm here, Haru,” he says gently. Haru doesn't move, still lost to sleep. Makoto smiles at him, feeling his heart squeeze itself over and over.

“You've been so strong, Haru...” he pets Haru's hair back, moving it so he can see his face. He can't help the surge of protectiveness that's filling him when he sees Haru like this. Not defenseless, not by a long shot, but open and soft. It wasn't a look Haru allowed many people to see. He scoots a little closer and gets a little braver.

“I've missed you. I've missed you _so_ much Haru,” he says. Haru breathes deeply, and Makoto rests his face against his.

“I just want to make sure you're alright. I want to take care of you, this time. I hope you'll let me,” he says, voice barely a whisper. He holds Haru close until he calms down. When he leans up to pick his book back up, Haru's still sleeping quietly against him. Makoto smiles and kisses his head, and thumbs through the pages to pick up where he left off.

It doesn't take long for Makoto to get absorbed into his book, and when Haru snuggles himself closer to him in his sleep, Makoto moves to accommodate him and turns his page without looking up. He doesn't see the blue of Haru's eyes quietly close themselves against him as Haru settles in to drift back off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took a million years to come out!! thanks for your unending patience everyone! o(╥﹏╥)o


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto isn’t drunk. He knows because despite Nagisa’s claims to the contrary, he’s been _drunk._ Not often, and not in recent memory, but it’s definitely happened. He knows he’s not drunk, which makes him a valid judge of other people’s drunk levels. 
> 
> Haru takes a step too long for his legs and Makoto has to keep him from falling over. Haru, Makoto decides, is _drunk._

Haru’s focused on keeping the pressure in his hand even as he carefully pipes out tiny chocolate characters, and doesn’t notice that half the bakery staff are gathered around to watch him. He’s only been back at Sucre for a couple of days, and while it hasn’t bothered him any, there were still a few new bakers who wondered at someone Mai would hire back sight unseen.

He finishes the last character and exhales heavily. Someone claps and he looks away. It was slow and tedious, but piping chocolate wasn’t really harder than anything else he did here, and it certainly doesn’t deserve applause. He trades the little bag of chocolate for the one of frosting, squeezing out a little blop of it to mount his chocolate on. He had debated on which way to go with it, the traditional rectangle with ‘Happy Birthday’ in English is what most people order, but Makoto wasn’t most people.

He uses chopsticks to carefully pick up the little white chocolate mackerel. He had even dusted it light blue with Mai’s airbrush, and if he’s quite honest with himself it’s his favorite part of the cake. He pushes it into the frosting to keep it in place, and it’s done. It wasn’t a very big or extravagant cake by Sucre standards, but Mai peeks over at him when he wipes his brow and whistles.

“Can I ask that you use even half of that talent for cakes for me?” she asks. Haru huffs.

“You can. I might,” he says. Mai smirks and pats his shoulder before getting called by someone else for help with their own pastry. Haru watches her go and wonders if she intended her little bakery to double as a school for young chefs like it so often does. At the very least, he’s grateful for what he’s learned from her, especially when it shows in the form of Makoto’s cake, pristine inside the signature lilac bakery box he packs it in.

He washes his hands and hangs his jacket back up on the usual peg, left vacant for him in his absence from the little cafe. He’s buttoning a shirt up over his undershirt when Mai pops her head in with another box. There’s flour in her hair and Haru makes a note to check himself in a mirror before he gets to Makoto’s.

“Take these too,” she says handing the box over. Haru peeks under the lid and a dozen cheery cupcakes meet his eyes. He looks back up to her and she smiles and waves her hand.

“We made extra for decorating practice, those are on the house.” She doesn’t say anything, but Haru is suddenly aware of how much she would usually charge for a cake like the one he had just packaged, and the neat little row of zeros in his head makes Haru pale. She looks back when he doesn’t say anything and laughs at whatever expression he’s got stuck on his face.

“Oh no, you’re reaching your limit, aren’t you?” she laughs and Haru relaxes into a familiar scowl. She had decided long ago that Haru had a limit to how social he could be in a day, and had sent him to the back or even home on more than one occasion. He didn’t usually argue it, glad he doesn’t have to explain when it’s sort of true. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t abuse it and give her headaches about it though.

“They still need more practice,” he says, indicating a couple little cakes with imperfect frosting or overwhelming details. Mai shakes her head.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she says. Haru carefully stacks his boxes and ties them with cord, making his point slowly. She shoves his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen.

“Tell Makoto happy birthday for me,” she says. Haru tells her he will and she’s gone. He looks down at the boxes in his hands and thinks that she’s already done it herself.

 

Rin had offered to pick him up and give him a ride to Makoto’s, and in hindsight Haru thinks maybe he should have taken him up on it. Between his own bag, the cakes, and an actual gift for Makoto, Haru is practically juggling everything into his seat on the train.

But then, it wasn’t just going to be Rin anyway. He’s not exactly eager to be stuck in the back of Yamazaki’s car with them. Besides, it wasn’t a busy time for the train, and there are more than enough empty seats for him and all his luggage. At least he won’t have to take it all back later.

The short walk to Makoto’s door is even more fun than the train ride, and Haru is relieved when he finally makes it inside. His bag falls with a thud and he steps out of his shoes, leaving them where they fall.

“Haru, that you?” Rin calls from somewhere inside and Haru answers him. It’s not like he had missed the door being unlocked or the car parked primly outside. Still, it seems off that it’s Rin that he hears. Stranger still when Yamazaki’s voice filters through a second after. He looks curiously at the green filled planter dominating the kitchen table before he leaves the bakery boxes next to it and makes it to the living room just in time to watch Rin and Yamazaki set the new TV into it’s mount. Haru leans on the wall and takes in the chaos they’ve made of Makoto’s living room with cardboard and instruction sheets and even a power drill, and forces himself to keep a straight face when he thinks about how long they’ve probably been struggling.

“ _Finally_ ,” Yamazaki says, unwittingly confirming it for Haru. Him and Rin both lean back against the table to admire their work. It looks good, just the right height to watch from the sofa, giving the living room a point to focus on other than the lack of anything personal. Haru wonders if Makoto still watches TV until he falls asleep.

“Alright, go get the rest of the stuff from the car,” Rin says, getting to his feet and patting Yamazaki’s head like a child. Yamazaki glares and shoves his hand away, and Haru gets the distinct impression that Yamazaki probably did most of the work already. Rin smiles at him and Haru knows he’s going to win this.

“Unless you want to figure out _this_?” Rin waves vaguely at the mess of power cords andcables and Yamazaki slumps.

“What’s the point of always working out if you still can’t lift anything?” Yamazaki says, fishing his keys out of his pocket anyway.

“I can lift _plenty_ ,” Rin snaps back and the way Yamazaki raises an eyebrow at him makes Haru feel like an outsider. He clears his throat and Yamazaki glares at him before stalking outside. The door shuts behind him and Haru gives Rin a look.

“Don’t even start,” Rin warns. “Come help me with this,” he adds before Haru can comment. Haru sits on the edge of the coffee table with him and they start the arduous task of sorting out the nest of cables. They can hear Yamazaki hauling in first grocery bags and then he shows up with a pile of blankets and pillows before dropping them unceremoniously on the arm chair and dragging the cardboard the TV came in back out with him.

“Exactly how long are you staying?” Haru asks, eyeing the pile of bedding. Rin laughs.

“You didn’t think you were the only one staying the night did you?” Rin says. Haru looks away. No, he didn’t think he was the only one staying. But he had hoped.

“There’s no way the one couch and one futon is enough for everyone, so we came prepared,” Rin continues, missing the slight pout on Haru’s face. Haru almost says something about how he won’t be taking up any of their limited space, but that would give away that he already plans to sleep in Makoto’s bed so he bites his tongue.

“You just want to make a fort,” he says instead. Rin laughs and rips the plastic off the remote so he can put batteries in it. They nearly have everything sorted out now.

“I am pretty great at it,” he says. This time Haru laughs. The door blasts open and the noise makes both of them jump. Something blond and familiar whizzes inside and collides with Haru, giving him just a moment to brace himself before colliding with the flat of the coffee table.

“Haru-chan I missed you!” Nagisa says too loud against him. Nagisa squeezes the breath out of him until Rei comes to his rescue, gently tugging Nagisa off him.

“What have I told you,” Rei starts. Nagisa beams up at him and tackles Rin next. Rin looks ready for it though, and barely budges. Rei lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Nagisa, Rei,” Haru greets them. “Good to see you again.” the three of them share a look Haru isn’t invited to and Rin grabs the back of Nagisa’s shirt to keep him from jumping on Haru again.

“It’s good to see you again too, Haruka,” Rei answers for them.

Yamazaki coughs from his spot against the hallway, and Haru realizes he’s been waiting patiently the whole time. He’d feel bad if he wasn’t quite so happy to be back on the inside.

“I’m going to go pick up Gou, do we need anything else?” He asks, eyes swooping over everyone but still awkwardly avoiding Haru. Nagisa grins at him.

“I brought enough booze to even knock _you_ on your ass, Sou-chan,” he says darkly. Yamazaki smiles.

“Think so?” He doesn’t seem bothered by the nickname.

“Even kings can fall,” Nagisa says. “Right Rei-chan?”

“I wish you wouldn’t bring me into this.. You know I find alcohol to be..” Rei sighs and Nagisa and Rin finish for him.

 _“ Not beautiful,_ ” they say in tandem before laughing with each other. Yamazaki huffs a laugh and Haru watches them curiously. They’ve done this before. This was just another thing they’d all shared with each other without him. With Makoto. He gets the itch to check his phone, knowing there won’t be anything new on it.

 _Makoto_. Just thinking his name helps. Maybe he’d try catching up with them, at least in this. He’d been a little curious ever since Makoto had sipped his whiskey like lemonade.

Yamazaki leaves and its just the four of them, already starting to be familiar again. It’s Rin, Haru realizes, who, without Makoto’s steady heart, burns until they all melt back together. He goes back to the kitchen to utilize the groceries they’d brought and trick them into snacks, and Rin and Rei argue in the living room about the most aesthetically pleasing way to make the TV look like more of a gift.

Nagisa makes the first trip back outside to lug in a case of beer the size of luggage, and Haru raises an eyebrow at it. Nagisa leaves and comes back with a paper bag of glass bottles, and Haru watches him unwrap them one by one. Crystal clear and glittering amber all join the ice in the freezer. He might not know much about alcohol, but even he knows that was too many bottles for how many people would be here. Nagisa cheerfully starts filling the fridge, and Haru wonders if there will be room for anything else once he’s done.

“That looks like a lot,” he says and Nagisa grins up at him, half in the refrigerator himself. “It’s a lot to normal people,” he says. Haru rests a hand on his hip.

“Normal people?” he prompts. Nagisa closes the fridge and jumps up, wiggling his finger until Haru leans down so Nagisa can cup his hand around Haru’s ear like he’s about to share some deadly secret.

“I have never, _ever_ , seen Mako-chan really drunk,” he says. Haru misses the impact.

“Neither have I,” he says easily. Nagisa slumps.

“But I’ve _tried_ , Haru-chan! I’ve tried _so_ hard!” he pouts. Haru pats his head consolingly. Nagisa accepts it before his head snaps up to pin Haru with his big eyes.

“I’ve never seen Haru-chan drunk either,” he says pointedly. Haru swallows.It takes a full two seconds to blink himself out of it and shake Nagisa off of him. He turns back to the food and Nagisa whines, defeated.

“Nagisa,” he says and Nagisa sticks his tongue out. This time when Nagisa turns back to his trophies, Haru does check his phone. Nothing from Makoto but he still had a bit before he said he’d probably be done with dinner at his parents. He had invited Haru along again, but Haru didn’t feel right intruding on his birthday dinner. His hands still and he frowns. Maybe that wasn’t right. Since when had he felt like an intruder at the Tachibana house?

Unsettled, he finishes making snacks quietly, Nagisa humming to himself nearby. It’s not really noisy in the house, even with the four of them, but it’s still louder than Haru’s used to it. Today, in the moment he realizes he still feels like an outsider, he’s grateful for the distraction of it.

The door opens and Kou appears in the kitchen a moment later, all smilesand cheerfully wrapped packages. She smiles at Haru and he’s glad she isn’t here on business. He doesn’t think he could handle one of her workouts at the moment.

“Is this… an herb garden?” she asks. Nagisa had jumped on Yamazaki as soon as he’d made it inside, and Haru’s left alone with her in the kitchen. Now that he looks closer at it, he can identify several different herbs growing in the planter, and he gets the feeling the rest are herbs he just doesn’t recognize when they aren’t in their natural, dried and bottled form. He sits down next to her and notices a card tucked up under it.

“Yeah. From the station,” he answers, opening the card and seeing the wall of signatures. He can pick out a few names he remembers, but there are more than he expected. Someone had helpfully made a little packet with pictures and names, and Haru smiles when he flips through it. He hands the card to her and she smiles when she reads over it. Haru’s phone buzzes and he opens it maybe a little too quickly, but Kou is busy matching the pictures to the plants and doesn’t comment.

 _On the way home now, sorry to keep you all waiting._ Haru huffs. _Don’t apologize on your birthday_ , he sends back.

“Haruka?” Kou asks and Haru blinks back to her. Kou looks away, back into the miniature garden in Makoto’s kitchen.

“What is it?” he asks, trying to sound nice. He knows she doesn’t know how to read him like the others. His phone buzzes again and she pins him with her eyes before he can answer it. _Relieved_ , he thinks.

“Thank you for being here.” She takes his hand and squeezes it, and Haru’s words dry in his throat. Just how many times would he need to hear that through different voices before it stopped scraping inside him like a dull knife?

 _Thank you for coming back to us_ , Haru hears.Rin calls for them and Kou smiles a little shyly before releasing his hand and getting to her feet to join the others. It occurs to Haru then, that he could walk out the door and no one would stop him.

He stands up and walks into the living room, finally earning it’s name. They’re all spread out across the space, but instead of being cramped it seems just right. Haru rolls his eyes and takes the space Rin pats for him, easy conversation between everyone barely pausing to let him in. He remembers his phone and opens the new message from Makoto. _It’s my birthday and I’ll apologize if I want to_ , it says cheekily. Haru brings his legs up and tucks them under him to type out a reply.

Around him Nagisa is telling a very animated story about his sisters to Yamazaki, and from the look on Rei’s face probably a very exaggerated story at that, but no one seems to mind. Haru doesn’t have to wonder when they all got so close, he’d given them plenty of time. His phone buzzes. _Stop texting me and socialize, they’re your friends too Haru_ , it says. Haru’s eyes widen and he hears Rin try to hide a laugh. He glares over to see Rin smile and close his phone, deliberately slow.

“Tattletale,” Haru accuses, quiet enough not to be heard over Nagisa. He was standing on the coffee table now.

“Someone has to keep you in line,” Rin says, elbowing him. “Besides, Makoto is driving back isn’t he?” Haru frowns but closes his phone anyway. He doesn’t actually know how Makoto was getting back, but the truck doesn’t surprise him.

“And then I told them Haru-chan makes cakes now and they didn’t believe that either!” Haru catches the end of Nagisa’s story just in time to miss any parts of it that would make any sense.

“It’s not that hard to believe,” Rin grumbles next to him. “Haru’s always cooked.”

“Certainly lacks a certain… creative flair your usual stories have,” Kou agrees. Nagisa slumps and drapes himself over Rei, who only sighs and moves to accommodate him.

“I know! They don’t believe anything anymore, it’s no fun,” he whines. Even Yamazaki shakes his head fondly at him.

“I could bake something for them,” Haru says tentatively. Nagisa shoots up and all eyes turn to Haru. Haru flips his phone around in his palms, not sure where to look.

“If it’d help,” he adds.

“It would! Definitely!” Nagisa would have probably leapt on him again if Rin hadn’t grabbed him halfway there.

“Oi, how are you going to prove Haru made it?” Rin asks, and Kou giggles behind her hand when Nagisa’s face falls.

“You could just go visit him at Sucre,” Makoto says, leaning against the hall. He smiles when everyone stops to notice him. “I know Mai would love to meet more of Haru’s friends.”

“Mako-chan!” Everyone says his name at the same time, but Nagisa drowns them out. He’s the first one to reach him too, and Makotolaughs and catches him easily him when he latches on to him. All around him, everyone moves to join in in hugging and congratulating, but Haru hangs back. He’s on his feet but his distaste for getting squished in between everyone is stronger, so he waits. It doesn’t take Makoto long to look over their heads and to Haru, and when he smiles it’s just the two of them again. Their schedules had been weird and Haru feels like he hasn’t seen him in a week, even though he knows its only been a couple of days. Makoto keeps smiling at him, and Haru feels himself starting to return it when Rin interrupts.

He clears his throat loudly and nods his head towards the TV, bright red ribbon tied into an extravagant bow over the corner of it. Makoto cranes his head to look around the corner and lets out a startled laugh when he sees it. Yamazaki and Rin grin at each other and Haru feels a pin prick of jealousy at not getting Makoto something as flashy as they had.

“You shouldn’t have,” Makoto says, voice caught between awe and reproach. He pulls it off well.

Rin jumps up and tugs Makoto down into the middle of the couch, the perfect position to watch his new television. Nagisa runs off chanting about drinks and presents and Kou and Rei pull Yamazaki after them to help. Knowing he’d only be in the way in the kitchen, Haru takes a seat on Makoto’s side.

“Worry about it later, turn it on already the suspense is _killing_ me,” he says, planting the remote in Makoto’s hand. Makoto looks at it before hitting the big red power button, and like a switch his living room is a movie theater. Speakers, cable, everything checks out, and even Haru can admire the quality in the picture.

“You really, _really_ shouldn’t have,” Makoto says, somehow sounding like a whine. He keeps flipping through channels though. Rin smiles and throws himself on Makoto’s other side, stretching his arms over the back of the couch like he owns it.

“Wasn’t just me. Sousuke and Tatsumi helped.” Makoto sighs, but smiles and lets Rin lean over him to explain the controls on it. While Rin goes on about it, Makoto looks over at Haru and smiles, and Haru shifts his weight just enough to move closer without being obvious. The corners of Makoto’s eyes crinkle in the way Haru is starting to think is just for him, but he turns back to Rin and the new entertainment before Haru can make anything out of it.

Nagisa tugs on his sleeve and Haru nearly jumps at the sudden contact. He hadn’t even heard Nagisa come back. Nagisa just smiles and blinks innocently at him, silently urging him to come with him. Rin and Makoto are still absorbed in the TV, so Haru quietly gets to his feet and lets Nagisa lead him back to the kitchen.

“Rei says we have to do cake first, and I think you should bring it to him,” Nagisa always whispers too loud, but Rei nods along, approving his plan.

“I’d be too afraid of dropping it anyway,” Kou says apologetically. Haru shakes his head. He carried it all the way here, it wasn’t a problem to carry it to the next room too.

“It’s amazing, Haru-chan,” Nagisa whistles when Haru opens the box.

“I can’t believe we’re going to eat _art_ ,” Rei adds, hushed.

"Cake is cake,” Haru says sensibly. Yamazaki hands him a perfectly sized plate from one of Makoto’s cupboards, and Haru watches him warily as he takes it.  

“Thank you,” he says. Yamazaki remains indifferent, already moving on to smaller plates down for them to actually eat off of. Nagisa holds his breath as Haru transfers it to the plate, but Haru’s done this too many times to be concerned.

“Now these,” Nagisa says, happily holding out a little cardboard box of neon candles. Haru concedes by admitting three candles, all green, to decorate it.

Someone hands him a lighter, and with a flick of his thumb the room is three tiny fires brighter. Nagisa and Rei exchange smiles with Kou, and she passes it to Yamazaki who doesn’t quite smile, but at least stops frowning.

They return to the living room a victorious parade, Haru leading them with the cake like a torch. He sets it in front of Makoto and enjoys the stunned look on his face. Makoto looks up at him with such innocent wonder, that suddenly Haru is embarrassed to give him something like this in front of everyone.

His mouth is only just forming the words to tell him happy birthday when Nagisa surges under his arm and sings it, loudly and off key. Makoto breaks into a laugh despite his ears turning pink, and Haru smiles as Rin and soon everyone joins in to sing.

Makoto rubs the back of his neck while they finish, and blows the candles out just before they can drip wax onto the cake. He looks up to Haru first, and Haru’s heart misses a beat. _It doesn’t mean anything,_ he tells himself quickly.

But makoto pulls the candle stubs out of his cakes and sets them aside gently, and Haru thinks, _but what if it does?_

“Is that a mackerel?” Makoto asks him with a laugh. Haru sits next to him and nods. Makoto leans in to look closer, and Haru feel vindicated in taking his time on it. Makoto turns to him quickly, worry poorly hidden on his face.

“Wait, there isn’t mackerel _in_ this cake right?” he asks. Haru stares at him.

“I must have forgot,” he says blankly, and Makoto sighs in relief before remembering he was trying to act neutral about it.

“It’s a normal cake,” Haru says fondly. “Only one mackerel this time.” Makoto smiles weakly.

“Thanks Haru. It’s beautiful.” Now it’s Haru’s turn to feel warm. He slices the cake when no one else dares to, but not before Nagisa snaps more pictures than Haru thinks is strictly necessary. He hands Makoto the piece with the mackerel, making sure he gets a pirouette cookie as well. The rest he pays little attention to, much more interested in sneaking looks out of the corner of his eye at Makoto as he takes the first bite.

Makoto doesn’t disappoint. His eyes shut and the fork lingers in his mouth, savoring. His head tilts back, and Haru’s eyes are drawn down the trail of his neck until skin still tanned from the summer sun retreats under thick cotton.

Haru nearly misses his face with his own forkful of chocolate ganache and cake. He recovers before anyone can notice, and when he blinks back to Makoto a second later, his eyes are green and unwavering on him. He smiles slowly, not sure what he’d caught Haru in but knowing he’d caught him nonetheless. Haru scoops another bite into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Makoto says lowly, voice making Haru shiver.

“It’s good but it’s too sweet,” Rin says from Makoto’s other side, oblivious to the moment.

“Hush Oniichan,” Kou says crossly, and he sticks his tongue out but keeps eating anyway. Even Yamazaki seems pleasantly surprised, and Haru silently thanks Mai and her years of cake wisdom when Yamazaki looks at him and has to look away.

Nagisa finishes first, but he uses the sugar energy well, dashing back into the kitchen and returning with an armful of beers, cupcake already shoved in his mouth. He pushes the snack food out of the way for the cans, and heads back telling them not to start without him.

Rin ignores him, popping the tab off a beer and swallowing a mouthful down with a grin. Nagisa comes back with a couple of ice filled glasses and the amber bottle, and Haru recognizes it as the same whiskeyIchiro-san had given Makoto a month ago. Nagisa fills a glass half way and starts to hand it over to Makoto before thinking better of it and filling the glass nearly to the brim.

“Cheers, Mako-chan,” Nagisa says mischievously, clinking a can into his glass. Makoto returns it, and holds Nagisa’s gaze to drink from his glass, unflinching. Haru will never understand how he can do that. Nagisa fills the other glass for Yamazaki, and presses beer cans into less enthusiastic hands until everyone has a drink.

Except Haru. Nagisa stands in front of him with his arms crossed, trying to solve a puzzle before he has to ask for a hint. Haru lets him stare, impassive. Rei sips his beer politely while Kou gulps hers between lines of a story about one of the guys she’s training, Rin takes a sip from Yamazaki’s glass before making a face and returning to his beer, and Nagisa continues to stare.

“Alright! I give up Haru-chan,” he says finally. “What do you want to drink?” Rin leans around Makoto to watch, and Makoto gently pushes him back into the sofa. Haru chews his lip, and decides the hell with it.

“Surprise me,” he says, not quite meeting Nagisa’s eyes. When he doesn’t say anything, Haru peeks, and Nagisa looks like it’s his birthday instead of Makoto’s.

“No take backs!” he says, and runs to the kitchen. Haru looks to Makoto for help, and Makoto smiles at him.

“Ready for presents?” Kou says, and Makoto laughs.

“Haven’t I gotten enough?” he asks.

“No,” Kou says decisively, planting her gift bag firmly on his lap. Makoto thanks her before he even looks inside. There’s a box of various sized picture frames, and a piece of exercise equipment Haru recognizes to improve grip strength.

“You need to put up some photos,” Kou explains. “Its creepy in here without any.” Yamazaki snorts.

“Kinda serial killer,” he says and Kou nods. “Right? And I got you the next highest resistance,” she adds.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” Makoto says easily. Nagisa comes back with something _blue_ in a glass for Haru and another half of a cupcake in his mouth while Makoto opens Rei’s gift and Haru eyes it suspiciously. He had watched Nagisa bring the alcohol in, and he would have remembered if one of them were _blue_.

“Just try it,” Nagisa urges. “You didn’t like beer, remember?” Haru does remember, but it’s not making this thing more appealing. It smells sticky sweet and flammable, and thinking of what could possibly be inside, it probably was. Makoto’s glass is already half empty on the table while he works on Nagisa’s package next, so when no one’s looking Haru takes a tentative sip.

The overwhelming burn of alcohol is the only thing he tastes at first, but once he gets past it he can taste something fruity, and only almost as sweet as it smells. He opens his eyes and realizes he had scrunched them shut. He can still feel it burning a trail down his throat. He looks over to Nagisa and nagisa hides the camera quickly, but still too slowly for Haru to have missed it.

Haru turns his head and tries again, and it’s not as bad the second time. After the alcohol he can actually taste the drink, and he’s surprised when it tastes like pineapples and oranges. Haru looks at Nagisa questioningly and Nagisa winks at him. His throat is still on fire, but the taste is growing on him.

“You’re next Haru,” Rin says and Makoto frowns at him.

“You didn’t get me anything else did you? The cake was more than enough,” he says.

“Too bad,” Haru answers. Nagisa slides Haru’s present over and Haru nudges Makoto with his shoulders until he gives in and tugs at the wrapping. The ribbon falls away and Makoto strips a shred of the paper off and the corner it reveals makes him pause.

“Haru..” Makoto’s voice is full of an emotion Haru can’t quite name, so he sips his drink and doesn’t say anything. Makoto pulls another piece off carefully, like the box underneath might tear with it.

“Whoa, I haven’t seen one of those in years Haru-chan!” Nagisa says, leaning forward to get a better view of Makoto unwrapping it. It was an older game console by today’s standards, but it’s what Makoto had had before, and Haru wasn’t really sure which modern system he’d prefer anyway. Makoto pulls the last scrap of paper from the box and holds it in his hands, package boasting gaming specs that were long since outdated, but still nostalgic.

“I didn’t know you were into retro games,” Yamazaki says, not unkindly. Haru watches Makoto swallow before he smiles over at him.

“I am, yeah. This is one of my favorites,” he says, tapping on the picture of the included game. Haru sips and leans back against the couch. He couldn’t count how many study sessions at Makoto’s house had derailed into marathon tournaments of that cartoonracing game. Either against each other, or against the twins, it was more unusual for Haru to make it through a visit to his house without playing than with. Ran was more competitive, but Ren was unusually skilled at it, though still not much of a match for his brother.

Although, when Haru teamed up with Ren it was any one's game, and Haru remembers it with a smile.

“We’re playing that. We’re playing that!” Nagisa nearly knocks Rei’s beer out of his hand in his excitement, but Makoto smiles at him and starts opening the box.

“I’d like that,” he says, and it’s decided. Rin and Nagisa take over setting up, and Makoto resumes with his glass, leaning back against Haru.

“Thank you,” Makoto says to him. Makoto’s eyes are warm and distant, and Haru gets the feeling he’s remembering too.

“That was really thoughtful,” Makoto says, and Haru drinks so he doesn’t have to answer. Haru isn’t sure why he chose that for him, but when he had seen it in the store he had grabbed it without a second thought. He was hearing the laughter from years ago, but if he’s honest he was probably just hoping it would make Makoto smile. And it had.

Makoto smiles wider at his scrunched face from his drink, and clinks their glasses together before taking a drink of his own. Haru glares at the ease of it, and Makoto even has the gall to smile like he _enjoys_ it.   

“Let me try,” Haru asks, surprising them both. Makoto trades him glasses, and Haru nearly coughs at the difference in taste when he tilts it back. Burning, his mouth, his throat, even down into his chest, everything was burning. Alcohol burn and smoke, that’s what Makoto’s drink tastes like, and when Makoto offers him his blue drink back with a laugh Haru takes it eagerly.

“How can you drink that?” he asks, still gagging. Haru is already mentally giving Nagisa props for his mixing. His sip after Makoto’s barely makes his eyes close. Makoto smiles and swirls the liquid in his cup, and if it hadn’t just nearly killed Haru, he might be able to appreciate the way the colors move in the low light.

“It’s more of an acquired taste I think,” Makoto smiles. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Haru frowns and waits until Makoto’s busy drinking to say, “How do you acquire a taste for gasoline?” Makoto chokes on his drink and Haru thinks payback tastes like oranges and pineapples. The familiar chime of the console booting up draws both of their attention back to the party, and Nagisa wedges himself between them with a couple of controllers.

The first game is the only race that really gets watched by the group. Makoto, Nagisa, Rin and Rei play, and Haru’s the only one not surprised when Makoto uses an old shortcut to steal first place right from under Nagisa’s nose. Nagisa makes a sound of defeat and passes the controller dramatically to Yamazaki, and after that it’s hard to really say when one match ends and the next one starts.

Kou brings out the snacks Haru had thrown together, and Haru helps clear plates from his cake, satisfied that several are scraped clean, not even a crumb remaining. When he comes back Nagisa gives him his spot on the end of the couch back, and the next time Haru reaches for his glass it’s mysteriously refilled itself. He looks at Nagisa but he’s suspiciously got his back to him, listening to Kou tell him and Rei about adventures in fitness with her clients.

They break into groups and reform into new ones, controllers never resting out of someones hands for long, row of cold beers somehow never getting smaller despite the pile of empty cans getting larger. Haru feels warm, sipping on his blue drink while Rin explains something about a Bunnings and their sausages in Australia, and Haru is trying not to laugh when he slurs his words together. It occurs to him that Rin might not be talking about food at all, and he snorts into his drink and leans back against Makoto, hoping to take some of his strength to endure Rin’s ridiculous story.

“Shut up Haru. Meat, I’m talking about _meat_. Every weekend!” Rin throws his arms up, trying to emphasize it, and Haru can feel his composure slipping. A laugh escapes him before he can drown it with this drink Nagisa keeps making him, and he really needs to remember to ask him later how he made it, it was quite good.

“Oh my god Haru, not that kind of meat, I’m not _Sousuke_ ,” Rin says, rolling his eyes. Haru stops laughing, his wide eyes searching out Yamazaki for his reaction. Yamazaki doesn’t look away from the screen. He must be racing again.

“Not always sausage, Rin,” he says, somehow still managing to be smug about it. Haru rolls the other way to look at the TV, and Yamazaki is neck and neck with Makoto. Haru watches as they near the finish line on the final lap and Yamazaki’s little car zips in just in front of Makoto’s. Yamazaki laughs through his victory lap, clinking his glass against Makoto’s as they toast to their good match. When Yamazaki looks back at them he smiles broadly at Rin, eyebrow arched in challenge.

“But it _is_ every weekend,” he says. Rin flips him off and chugs the rest of his beer. Haru snorts into Makoto’s shoulder, and Makoto smiles down at him over the rim of his glass, refilled courtesy of Nagisa. Haru’s laugh dries in his mouth. At some point, Makoto had slipped his glasses on. Haru’s aware of Rin and Yamazaki arguing about something, but he’s too focused on the way the glasses frame Makoto’s eyes and rest just _so_ on the bridge of his nose and how his cheeks are just a little warm from the alcohol but he’s still-

“Pretty,” Haru says. And then he does laugh, high and giddy, stronger after letting that exist out loud. He hides his face against Makoto’s side, and feels it when Makoto rumbles into a laugh with him.

“Haru, are you,” Makoto pauses long enough to lean him up so they can look at each other. “Are you _drunk_ , Haru?”

“No.” Haru answers. To prove it, he takes another drink. He barely winces anymore, the heat draining down his throat like an old friend. Makoto laughs and Haru sees his hand flinch towards him. _Put it on me_ , he thinks.

He shoots to his feet at the thought. He falls back down into the couch just as fast. Rin laughs so hard Haru would be worried for his health if he wasn’t annoyed with him. Makoto laughs too, but at least he has the decency to look chastised when Haru glares at him.

“Nagissa,” he says and Nagisa perks up like a puppy. Haru holds up his empty glass and Nagisa smiles widely. He takes if from Haru and helps him to his feet and both of them make it to the kitchen for refills. Rin collapses against Makoto, and Makoto gives in and laughs with him when Haru is a safe distance away.

Haru ignores them. It’s tricky to walk, his legs aren’t working like they should. Or is it just him? It’s hard to tell, so as soon as he makes it to the kitchen he holds onto the counter for his life. He sways a little anyway, but Nagisa doesn’t mind. He makes Haru more of his blue drink, and Haru concentrates to try and remember how he does it.

He takes a sip as soon as Nagisa finishes and hands it over and forgets the most important part.

“What makes it blue though?” he asks the ceiling. “Orange liqueur,” Nagisa answers Haru off hand, busy filling new glasses with more blue drink.  

“Oranges not blue,” Haru says. Anyway he looks at it, there’s no way Nagisa doesn’t know that. Nagisa giggles and hands him a bottle.

“Don’t worry about that. Bring this to Mako-chan, okay?” Haru nods gravely. He takes a step away from the counter and almost trips, so he takes another drink to steel himself. It’s good, it’s really good, like drinking candy. Happy candy.

He makes it back to the sofa and stops to deliberate. Rin’s in his seat now, still half collapsed against Makoto. He could just sit on the empty space on the end, next to Rin. But while Haru was fine, Rin was drunk, and he seems to have too many angles and too much energy.

“Rin, move,” he says. Rin sticks his tongue out at him and starts laughing again. Haru would move him if his hands weren’t full. Rin eyes his hands like he knows what Haru’s thinking and smiles.

“Trade me,” he says. Haru glares, effect lessened by the sway in his stance. Rin laughs and clarifies. “Your drink, my spot.”

Haru frowns. He just got this drink. “Get your own,” he says. Rin stands up and Haru’s head swims. Haru doesn’t really have to look up at him. He isn’t as tall as Makoto. Haru tells him as much and it’s Rin’s turn to glare.  

“Don’t fight on my birthday, not allowed,” Makoto says. “ _Rin_.”

“What the hell Makoto,” Rin says. Haru smiles smugly at him. He hopes he looks smug, anyway. Makoto takes the bottle from Haru and Nagisa appears and presses a glass into Rin’s hands, and like that the situation is diffused.

Haru knows he won though.

He reclaims his spot next to Makoto when Rin follows Nagisa to the armchair, and he sinks into it gratefully. It was harder than he remembers, standing upright. He closes his eyes for just a moment, letting the colors dance on the back of his eyelids. He wonders if he could paint them. The sound of liquid being poured over ice tells Haru Makoto is pouring himself a refill, and he opens a heavy eyelid to watch.

Makoto’s glass is full again, and he tops Yamazaki’s off before pulling his sweater up over his head and tossing it aside, leaving him in one of those pleasingly thin undershirts he’s always wearing. Haru can see the kanji on the back of his neck, and not for the first time he wonders what it would feel like to trace it with his fingers.

“Is this a third bottle?” Makoto asks Yamazaki and he shrugs and laughs. They were the only two drinking bourbon, had they really gone through two bottles by themselves? Haru turns towards the window and it’s decidedly darker than he remembers.

“Maybe,” Yamazaki answers. He turns his head enough to see Haru and frowns. Haru ignores him, trying to remember where he put his phone so he can check the time. The couch shifts and Yamazaki’s hand nearly hits Haru’s face as he rests an arm around Makoto’s shoulder and tugs him against himself. He whispers something into Makoto’s ear. Something snaps in Haru and suddenly Yamazaki has Haru’s full attention.

Makoto looks annoyingly comfortable, leaning against Yamazaki and laughing at whatever secret they share. Haru doesn’t care for it. Yamazaki sees him looking and smiles. When Makoto lifts his glass up to take a drink, Yamazaki leans his head against him and Makoto holds it so Yamazaki can drink from it first. Haru doesn’t _care for it_. Yamazaki looks like he knows this, and he whispers something else to Makoto that gets him elbowed, but not hard enough to satisfy Haru.

“Shut up Sousuke,” Makoto murmurs back to him. “Are you okay Haru? You’re awfully red,” he says, much softer than he had spoken to Yamazaki. Haru takes a hand off his glass to feel his face, and the coolness of his palm feels amazing. He brings the glass up to his forehead and leans into it, and that feels even better.

“I’m not drunk,” he says. He takes his time forming the words, he doesn’t want to sound like Rin. Haru opens his eyes and Makoto is smiling at him. “You don’t believe me,” he says. He tries to sound hurt.

“I don’t believe you,” Makoto says, but it’s gentle and without judgement. Haru leans against Makoto then, careful to avoid Yamazaki’s hand.

“I don’t believe you either,” Yamazaki adds from the top of his glass. Haru glares.

 _“ Birthday_ ,” Makoto says pointedly, and they both stand down.

Kou is already asleep, curled up in the armchair with a little pile of crushed beer cans at her feet. someone covered her with one of the scattered assortment of blankets laying around, and Nagisa and Rei sit huddled together at the base of the chair, Rei speaking very quickly and very sloppily about something technical sounding Haru can only start to understand, but Nagisa nods along like he’s invested in the story anyway.

Haru realizes he can’t see Rin anywhere, and he’s about to ask when he hears the toilet flush. Rin comes back and rests a hand on his hips at the three of them.

“Hell is s’all this?” he asks. Haru holds his glass with both hands.

"I, am not drunk,” he says. Rin looks from Haru to Makoto to Yamazaki and back, and bursts out laughing.

“No way,” Rin’s voice is higher than usual. “Nagisa you did it!” Rin falls nearly falls over when he tries to sit on the floor next to Nagisa, and it only makes him laugh harder. He squeezes Nagisa to his chest and Nagisa hiccups into giggles of his own.

“Really Haru-chan?” Nagisa asks.

“No,” Haru says the same time Rin says “Yes.”

Nagisa and Rin look like they’ve won the lottery so Haru decides to ignore them. He worms himself closer against Makoto, and Makoto finally takes the hint and puts an arm around his shoulders for him to rest under.

“They’re annoying and wrong,” he tells Makoto. Makoto laughs.

“They’re your friends Haru, doesn’t that make me annoying too?” Makoto asks. Haru looks up at him.

“No,” he says finally, tongue thick in his mouth. Makoto makes a face like he’d never considered it. _Stupid_ , Haru thinks, and he pinches Makoto’s cheek until he laughs again.

“Aw don’t be like that Haru-chan,” Nagisa whines. Haru turns his head away with a huff, and the next thing he knows something heavy and warm is throwing itself across him and Makoto. He opens his eyes and Nagisa smiles up at him, somehow laying across both of them.

“Oi, don’t leave me out,” Rin says from where he’s been left on the floor. Haru crunches an ice cube between his teeth. He’s so warm he’s surprised it doesn't just melt. Rin gets himself up and over to them, thankfully falling across Yamazaki’s lap instead on top of them and Nagisa. Haru watches Yamazaki’s hand clench on Makoto’s shoulder. Rin must be even heavier.

“What the hell, you’re pretty comfortable,” Rin says, eyes falling shut. Yamazaki doesn’t answer him, but Haru can see him smile down at Rin.

“Right? Good call Nagisa,” Nagisa says wiggling around until he’s settled against him and Makoto. Haru rolls his eyes. Rei is still sitting against the armchair Kou is curled up on, a little dazed looking. He’s not really focused on them, but Haru thinks he looks lonely.

“Rei,” he calls, and Rei snaps up, straightening his glasses when they slide. Haru holds up his free arm, inviting Rei into the last free bit of sofa. Rei’s mouth hangs open for a second before he remembers himself.

“That’s not necessary,” he says, sounding out necessary a couple of times before he gets it right.

“Rei,” Haru says again. He knows Rei wants to.

“Come on, Rei-chan,” Nagisa says. “No fighting on Makoto’s birthday.”

“That’s right,” Makoto says, finishing off his glass. Rei looks embarrassed, or maybe he’s just red from the alcohol, Haru saw Nagisa slip him one of Haru’s blue drinks, but either way he dutifully gets to his feet and carefully perches on the end of the couch. He’s hesitant to touch any of them, but Nagisa makes eye contact with Haru and grins, and Haru pulls him up against them and Nagisa cements him in place by laying across him, too. Rei relaxes against him almost immediately, and Haru is sure he was just waiting for an invitation.

“You should just ask,” he tells him. He’s too light headed to realize the irony that any of them could say the same to him.

“Haru-chan, race Mako-chan,” Nagisa mumbles. Makoto looks at him, eyes wide.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Haru, you haven’t gotten to play yet have you?” Makoto says, fumbling for the controllers. Haru shrugs, as best as he can under Makoto’s arm and with one of his around Rei.

“S’alright,” he says. Makoto likes it, and Haru doesn’t mind watching.

“Kick his ass Makoto,” Rin says, already half asleep. Yamazaki laughs, quiet enough to be missed. Makoto passes Haru a controller.

“Kind of nostalgic, huh?” Makoto says, shuffling through vehicles. Haru nods, selecting the same one he always used before. He’s glad Makoto was the one to say it, he’s not sure he could pronounce ‘nostalgic’ right now. As it is the buttons seem to click too quick for him.

Makoto picks a course at random, and Haru lets go of Rei to use both hands. Rei stays leaned against him, one hand resting in Nagisa’s hair. Makoto doesn’t let go of Haru though, choosing to hold the controller awkwardly instead. Haru feels a little thrill at that.

The race starts and for a second Haru forgets which button accelerates, and that single second is enough for Makoto to move up to fourth place. Haru remembers and slams the button down, only to run straight into a wall. He curses under his breath and everyone watching tries not to laugh. They fail.

By the time they’re on the last lap, Makoto is steady in second place, and Haru is firmly in eighth. Even Haru laughs as he runs off the edge, again. For some reason, he can’t seem to get the controls down, and he keeps looking at the wrong screen and thinking he’s Makoto, only to look back and see himself running off the edge or into a fence. It’s hilarious, and Haru feels light enough to admit it. Makoto finishes in second, only not taking first because he was laughing too, deep and loud against Haru.

It takes Haru another good 30 seconds to finish the lap, and Nagisa is nearly in tears by the time he does. Haru doesn’t care. He feels good. He knows that the alcohol is probably helping, because he won’t admit it but he’s pretty sure he’d only get left and right mixed up so often if he was a little drunk. It doesn’t matter. It feels so good to smile and laugh with them again. He’d thought he’d lost this, this warm feeling bubbling up in his chest. He’d finish dead last every time if it could be like this.

Makoto wipes the corner of his eyes and Haru hides behind the remainder of his drink to try and get himself together. When Makoto smiles over at him, he forgets why he was trying to hide in the first place.

“Thank you, Haru. That was a lot of fun,” Makoto says, and Haru thinks all the light in the room is reflected in his eyes. He remembers he hasn’t actually told him happy birthday yet, and tries again. He’s interrupted by Rin snoring, and he ducks against Makoto’s shoulder to stifle another laugh.

“It might be time for bed,” Makoto says, voice lowered this time. Nagisa opens his eyes to frown up at him.

“You aren’t drunk yet, Mako-chan,” he pouts. Makoto pats his leg.

“I’m a little drunk,” Makoto argues. “And, you got Haru drunk, isn’t that good enough?” Haru peeks back up from his hiding spot against Makoto to glare at them.

 _“ Not_ drunk,” he says. He finishes his drink and Nagisa is smiling when he looks back at him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says happily. Haru eats more ice. Nagisa gets up and Rei catches him before he falls over, and they head to the blankets. Makoto turns the console off, and gets up to help them. Haru thinks about joining, but when he tries to stand he decides against it, and stays seated. There’s a gap between him and Yamazaki without Makoto, but Yamazaki is too distracted by Rin sleeping in his lap to do anything about it. Haru watches him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know Yamazaki’s face could make an expression so soft.

“Sousuke, where do you want to sleep?” Makoto asks quietly, and it takes a second for Yamazaki to look up at him. Haru sees a flash of something on his face before he goes back to normal.

“Anywhere is fine,” he says roughly. Makoto nods and there’s something Haru is missing, but he doesn’t know if its something secret between Yamazaki and Makoto or just more drink in his glass. Probably both.

“There’s futon, sofa and the extra blankets, I’m sure there’s enough room for everyone. You guys can figure it out without fighting right?” Makoto asks, yawning. Yamazaki smiles and leans down to take his glass from the table.

“It hasn’t been your birthday anymore for at least an hour,” he says. But Haru doesn’t think he looks like he’s going to argue anytime soon. He looks pretty comfortable where he is, Rin half on his lap and half on the couch, snoring lightly.

“Goodnight Sousuke,” Makoto says sarcastically. Yamazaki returns it with a grin.

“Night Nagisa, Rei,” Makoto adds, careful not to trip over them as he walks around blankets and pillows. Makoto stops in front of Haru and holds his hand out. Haru’s chest squeezes. Makoto didn’t expect him to sleep downstairs either. Makoto was taking him back up to his bed, and Haru wildly thinks that he still hasn’t said happy birthday, and there were new ways to do it opening up in front of him.

Haru is wobbly getting to his feet as he says his good nights and gets them back. He holds on to Makoto’s hand as he tries to find his balance, and Makoto waits patiently for him. He nods and Makoto releases him, and he flicks the lights off on their way to the stairs. Haru’s having a fascinating time walking. His feet can’t seem to keep up with his body.

Haru picks his leg up for the first step and would have fallen backwards on his ass if Makoto’s strong hand hadn't snaked out and caught his wrist. He laughs a little, and Makoto keeps a steadying hand on his waist up the rest of the stairs.

 

Makoto isn’t drunk. He knows because despite Nagisa’s claims to the contrary, he’s been _drunk_. Not often, and not in recent memory, but it’s definitely happened. He knows he’s not drunk, which makes him a valid judge of other people’s drunk levels.

Haru takes a step too long for his legs and Makoto has to keep him from falling over. Haru, Makoto decides, is _drunk_ . Makoto thinks about carrying him, but the next step has Haru clenching at his shirt and Makoto decides to be just a little selfish and let him walk the rest of the way on his own. _It’s my birthday after all_ , he thinks.

Somehow, Haru makes it the rest of the way into Makoto’s room on his wobbly newborn lamb legs, and somehow, Makoto makes it the rest of the way into his room without laughing hard enough to offend him. They stop in front of Makoto’s bed, and Haru holds out his arms and lets himself fall face first into it. Makoto covers his mouth to muffle his laugh.

He’d grabbed Haru’s bag and shouldered it on the way up the stairs, and now he sets it on the end of the bed to sit next to Haru. Haru doesn’t move when the bed dips next to him, so Makoto rubs a hand across his shoulder blades. Haru makes a muted humming sound, face still hidden in Makoto’s blankets.

“Come on Haru,” Makoto coaxes. “As soon as you change we can go to bed.” Haru groans and rolls over with great effort. Haru lifts his arms and lets them flop against the bed as if to say ‘ _that’s too much effort, just let me sleep like this.’_ Makoto smiles at him.

“Sorry Haru,” he says. Haru stares up at him so Makoto smiles and closes his hand around his shoulder. Haru sighs, and Makoto releases him. Haru sits up and Makoto heads to his bathroom.

When he comes back, face washed and teeth brushed, changed into the soft cotton pajama bottoms he’d left in the bathroom that morning, Haru hasn’t moved much. He’s still dressed, but at least he was sitting up. Makoto comes around to face him, and Haru blinks slowly, body swaying just slightly. Makoto feels warmer than alcohol could ever make him when Haru’s glassy eyes look up and find him.

“Here Haru,” he says, using his softest voice. “Let me help.” Haru is on nearly the same level as Makoto’s tattoo, and he reaches out and touches it instead of answering him. Makoto holds very still, Haru’s fingers clumsy with curacao and rum, but he still tries to trace the whale out carefully.

Makoto isn’t drunk. He knows he isn’t. But he _is_ at least buzzed, and as Haru focuses on the tips of his fingers outlining the black ink on Makoto’s side, Makoto wonders what the tattoo would think, if it could, to meet its creator like this.

“Haru,” he says quietly, and only then does Haru seem to realize what he’s doing. He looks up at Makoto, lost, but his hands stay on Makoto’s skin like soft embers. Makoto smiles at him, moves his hand slowly into Haru’s hair.

“Makoto,” Haru says, and Makoto isn’t sure what he means by it. He isn’t sure Haru knows what he means by it. So instead, Makoto kneels on the bed next to him, and unbuttons the first button on Haru’s shirt for him.  Haru watches him, his eyes unfairly intense for someone who was so far gone. Makoto swallows and does the next button. Haru lets him, but somehow Makoto feels like the passive one in this exchange.

He waits for Haru to say something, or maybe take his wrist and stop him, but the last button slips free and Haru’s shirt hangs open, and Haru hasn’t done anything but watch him. _Dangerous_ , Makoto thinks, helping tug it over Haru’s shoulders and finally off him entirely.

Haru has a t-shirt on under, and Makoto’s fingers brush the skin over his hips when he hooks them under the hem of it to pull it up over his head. Haru shudders and closes his eyes, so Makoto lifts it off him as quickly as he can. _This is way too dangerous_.

Makoto needs a break before trying to help Haru with his pants, so he reaches across Haru for his bag, sure Haru packed some kind of sleeping clothes. Haru grabs his arm this time, and when Makoto turns to look at him Haru surges forward, clumsy lips meeting Makoto’s surprised ones.

 _I shouldn’t_ , Makoto thinks, as he does. Haru is sloppy but earnest, honest in a way he denies himself sober. Makoto opens his mouth and runs his tongue over Haru’s bottom lip. Part of his brain is all warning alarms, red and blaring, but it’s fighting the part of his brain that is saying _but it’s Haru_ , and nothing could be wrong as long as he’s kissing _Haru_.

Haru moans into his mouth and the alarms silence themselves. Makoto’s hands are on his back, pulling him against him while Haru’s hand spreads out from his tattoo, roaming over his chest without intent or destination. His other hand reaches up around the back of Makoto’s neck, and this time it’s his turn to moan against Haru.

Sooner than he’d like, they have to pull apart to breathe. Haru’s lips are red, just a few shades darker than his face, and it goes straight through Makoto’s heart and to less noble parts of him.

“It’s your birthday,” Haru says, breathless. It takes a moment for his words to settle in and Makoto to understand them. They still don’t make sense.

“Haru?” Haru doesn’t answer him, but runs his fingers down the rut between his abdominal muscles. The boldness of it makes Makoto warm, the possessiveness of it makes him weak.

“It’s your _birthday_ ,” Haru says, stopping with his fingers on the waistband of Makoto’s pants.

Oh.

 _Oh._ The alarms come back in full force. _Think fast Makoto_ , he tells himself. Haru is waiting for him, but Makoto knows he won’t be for long. _Think really fast_.

“Is that really what you want?” Makoto asks. He hope he sounds steadier than he feels. Haru’s will doesn’t waver, but his body does. Makoto makes up his mind.

“If you’re really ready, ask me when you’re sober,” he says. Haru’s hand doesn’t move. _Insistent_ , Makoto thinks fondly. _Stubborn_. He takes Haru’s wrist gently, and leans forward just enough to plant his lips on the top of Haru’s head.

“I mean it,” he says, but it’s redundant at this point. He’s blinking so heavily that Makoto knows it’s only a matter of time before he surrenders to the sleep calling his name. He nods and slumps against Makoto, so Makoto lets him.

“Think you can manage your pants?” he asks. Haru nods again, so Makoto squeezes him before letting him go and padding downstairs. Everyone else is already asleep, and the living room is quiet again. He pokes his head in anyway, just to check. Everyone looks comfortable enough, except maybe Sousuke. Makoto smiles to himself and covers him and Rin with a blanket. Sousuke really was a softie whenever it comes to Rin, but his back is going to be angry at him for sleeping sitting up like that in the morning.

Makoto heads back upstairs with a glass of water for Haru, and his grip nearly slips when Haru is sitting on his bed in only his underwear. Haru looks at him and straight to the water, and Makoto laughs before handing it over. Haru downs half of it without being told to, and Makoto wonders if he should have brought him a backup. Haru’s clothes lay where he’d gotten rid of them, his bag unopened on the foot of the bed.

“Feeling better?” Makoto asks. Haru carefully sets his almost empty glass on the floor and lays back down. Makoto helpfully moves his bag somewhere safe on the floor and comes around to the empty side of his bed. If Haru wants to sleep in his underwear, far be it from Makoto to stop him.  

“Yeah.. Sorry,” Haru says, something close to embarrassed. Makoto was wondering when that would catch up to him.

“Don’t be,” he says. He holds the blanket up, inviting Haru in closer. Whether its liquid courage or Haru is actually comfortable enough for it Makoto doesn’t know, but he scoots in and rests up against Makoto without hesitation tonight, and Makoto feels that familiar fondness blooming in his chest. Haru settles against him, eyes closed, and Makoto thinks he might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Without thinking, his free hand comes up and brushes over his cheekbones, making Haru’s eyes flutter open.

Haru blinks at him owlishly, trying to remember something forgotten, and Makoto stares back. He’ll never get tired of Haru looking at him, and being allowed to look back. Haru’s eyes widen a fraction, and his lips tilt up ever so slightly, and Makoto knows he’s remembered whatever it was.

“Happy birthday Makoto,” he says, triumphant. And then quieter, “I couldn’t say it earlier.” Makoto twists until he’s on his side, until he’s facing haru and pulling him in tight. He buries his nose in Haru’s hair and kisses the top of his head. Haru’s arms slowly return the embrace, and Makoto thanks whatever deity will listen for this moment.

“Thank you Haru,” he says. Haru hums against him, and it’s the last thing either of them hear before sleep takes them.

 

“You knew this would happen,” Makoto says. Sousuke grunts. Makoto sighs and pushes harder, using the pads of his thumbs hard against the knot in Sousuke’s shoulder.

“You’re lucky it’s the good shoulder,” he says under his breath. Sousuke hears him anyway and tells him to shut up before a Makoto’s thumb presses a spot that makes him groan.

Except for Rei, who had woken up like clockwork at six and somehow managed to get Nagisa into his car without Nagisa ever fully reaching consciousness, everyone else in the house was still asleep. Except Sousuke and Makoto, but neither of them were surprised by that. Makoto’s armchair is big enough that Kou never quite seems to be in the same position whenever Makoto peeks in to check on them, and he thinks it might be just enough to keep her back from ending up like Sousuke’s.

Makoto sighs and digs his thumb in harder, and Sousuke stops breathing for a moment.

“Christ,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “When did you become such a sadist?” Makoto shakes his head.

“When did you become such a masochist?” he returns. Sousuke grunts but eases up for Makoto to keep working. He’s almost got it out by now, so he takes a little pity on him and eases up.

“You would have done the same thing with _him_ ,” Sousuke says. Makoto smiles and presses harder after all.

 _“ Makoto!_ ” Sousuke hisses. Rin stirs and makes a sound in his sleep and rolls over, tangling himself up in the blankets he and Sousuke had brought over. Makoto had helped Sousuke lay him down on the futon when he had come downstairs and found them still on the end of the sofa. Sousuke doesn’t move until Rin’s light snores come back, and then all he does is glare over his shoulder at Makoto.

“Like you have any right to judge me after taking Nanase up to your _bed_ last night,” he says. “Very subtle, by the way.” Makoto smiles and puts enough pressure into his fingers to shut him up.  

“Looks like you’re ready,” he says blandly, patting Sousuke sharply on the back. “What do you think, fourteen kilometers today?” Sousuke rubs the back of his shoulder and looks at him warily, and Makoto’s smile doesn’t waver.

“You would actually do that to me too,” he says finally, shaking his head. “Monster.” Makoto laughs, quiet enough not to wake the Matsuokas.

“Come on, it’s good for you. Whose fault it is I have a habit like this anyway?” Makoto asks sweetly. Sousuke groans.

“You have to lend me something to run in,” he says, defeated. “And we are _not_ doing fourteen kilometers.”

Makoto sneaks back into his room to find Sousuke something to wear, dropping off a fresh glass of water for Haru on his way. He’s sure Haru is going to have some kind of hang over, so he’s careful not to turn on any lights or make too much noise. He changes into his own running clothes in the dark, but hesitates before going back downstairs.

Haru’s sleeping soundly, curled up on his side with only the top of his head sticking out from the covers. Makoto thinks about the convenient camera on his phone, but ultimately decides against it. He’s been lucky so far, and if he’s very lucky he’ll have plenty of opportunities like this in his future. So for now, he digs around in his bathroom for pain killers, and sets the little bottle next to Haru’s water. He leans down and presses his lips to the top of Haru’s head, and slips from the room as quietly as he came.

 

They end up doing something closer to six kilometers, the rain proving too awful for either of them to be too eager to do anything more. They come back more or less soaked, but Makoto at least, feels much better for it. Running gave him a recharge, a quiet time where all he had to do was keep his legs moving, where errant thoughts could roll around and settle down in his head. In a way, it was a little like swimming, but he was less worried about drowning when he was just jogging around his neighborhood.

Everyone is still asleep, but it’s late enough by now that Makoto won’t feel bad if they start waking up, so he isn’t as careful about sound as before. He rubs the rain out of his hair with a towel and lets it rest over his shoulders, and gets to work waking the house.

Which, after a night of drinking, can only mean one thing; breakfast, and lots of it. He opens his fridge and is please to see someone, Sousuke probably, had had the same idea, and thoughtfully brought their usual post-night out foods. Makoto rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, humming quietly as he coaxes the instant biscuits into a recognizable shape.

By the time he’s whisking the eggs together, Kou has groggily made her way to one of the seats in his kitchen. Makoto sets a cup of ginger tea in front of her and she gives him her thanks, barely awake. When he tests his pan’s temperature, Sousuke is coming out of the shower. He heads for Makoto’s fridge and drinks a few gulps of apple juice right from the jug before Makoto can elbow him and get him to use a cup. Sousuke grins at him and obliges, but not before covering Makoto’s head with his towel and rubbing it.

Makoto stirs his egg mix, still mostly liquid at this point, and hears the indignant sound of Rin fighting consciousness. Makoto leans to peek around the corner, and laughs at Sousuke toeing Rin until he rolls over and throws his pillow at him. Rin regrets it instantly, covering his head with the blanket when the light is too much for him, and Sousuke laughs at him.

Makoto pulls the biscuits out of the oven and sets them aside, and Sousuke pours Rin some juice to apologize for making fun of him earlier, and then helps pull out plates and bowls for Makoto. Makoto isn’t good enough at fooling himself to think he could handle making real miso soup, so he pulls out the bin where he keeps the instant packs and starts filling bowls as he waits for the kettle to boil again.

Somewhere after Kou and Rin start their usual argument on who handles their liquor better, Haru stumbles downstairs, Makoto’s favorite quilt wrapped around him like a mismatched cape. He manages to get past Rin and Kou unnoticed, but Sousuke makes a face and vacates Makoto’s side before he has to actually talk to Haru. Haru makes it up next to the stove, and when Makoto can look up from his eggs at him he nearly chokes at Haru’s bedhead.

“Good Morning,” he says gently, but Haru winces anyway. Haru looks like he wants to say something, but when nothing comes after a minute of uneven blinking, Makoto steers him to a chair and Haru lets himself be pushed into it. Makoto brings him a cup of more of that ginger tea, and Haru sends him a grateful look before taking a long pull from it.

“Morning,” he finally says. His voice sounds rough and Makoto feels guilt spike in his gut. Haru can’t be feeling great. Even Makoto had lost count on how many of those blue concoctions Nagisa has pressed into Haru’s hands the night before. Makoto thinks about the morning he spent throwing up after the first night _he_ had gotten drunk, and hopes Haru fares better than him.

“Look who finally joined the living,” Rin says, grinning. Haru squeezes his eyes shut at the volume, and Makoto wants to kiss him. He turns back to the food and leaves reigning Rin in to his sister and Sousuke.

“Like you didn’t just get up too, sleeping beauty,” Sousuke says. Makoto smiles to himself. Sousuke doesn’t often disappoint.

“And it was worth every minute, wasn’t it?” Rin shoots back and Sousuke rolls his eyes.

“How are you feeling, Haru?” Makoto asks once the attention is safely off of them. Haru doesn’t look up, only sips at his tea. Makoto pats him on the back and starts passing plates out. He sets the basket of biscuits out with honey and butter, the platter of eggs with salt and pepper, and hands out bowls of soup with another kettle of ginger tea. Haru looks at him, so Makoto grabs him a glass of water before sitting down next to him.

“Is it always like this after?” Haru asks him. “Awful, I mean.” Makoto smiles but doesn’t laugh, and nudges Haru towards the food.

“Not always,” he says. He doesn’t mention how rarely he gets hungover himself. “If you haven’t thrown up yet, you’ll feel better after you eat.”

Haru doesn’t look thrilled at the prospect, but he dutifully plops a biscuit and some eggs onto his plate and picks up a spoon for his soup. Makoto starts on his own food, and freezes when Haru’s knee presses against him. He peers up across the table, and once he’s sure Sousuke and the Matsuokas are safely unaware, he slowly lets his hand drop down between them. Haru surprises him again when he does the same and twines their hands together. Makoto takes a longer drink from his glass than could probably be considered normal to calm down.

He glances at Haru and Haru looks away, tearing into his biscuit with his teeth. Kou compliments Makoto on his cooking, and Makoto turns back to smile and thank her, even if he wouldn’t really call it _cooking_. Just like that the two of them are back in the conversation, and the moment is lost.

Haru holds onto his hand until all the plates are cleared, and Makoto can barely keep up over the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

 

They take the train to Iwatobi. It’s late afternoon, and Haru is feeling significantly better than he was in the morning. He had woken up feeling like death warmed over, his throat hoarse and his head pounding, but he had drank the water and taken the pills Makoto had left for him, and combined with breakfast and a nap and a shower after Rin and the others had finally left, and Haru was feeling human again.

He had no idea getting drunk was so much work. Although, from the way Rin had talked about it, Haru had gotten off easy. He didn’t throw up on anyone, or wake up somewhere unfamiliar, and he remembers all of the night.

Makoto sits in the seat next to him, answering birthday texts he was still receiving, and doesn’t notice Haru stare at him. Haru does remember the night, and if he can then he’s sure Makoto can. It was unfair, Haru decides, that he’s so unaffected when all Haru can think of is how smooth and dense Makoto’s chest had felt under his fingers.

Makoto looks up and smiles at him, and Haru spends the rest of the train ride looking out the window.

Iwatobi is a small unchanging town, and he and Makoto have walked over every inch of it at some point. The wind goes right through Haru as they split off the main road, and he pulls his jacket tighter around him, hands deep in his pockets. It wasn’t raining, but the dark sky threatened it any minute.

His feet still know the way, even though he hasn’t been to this part of town in years. He could tell himself he’s shivering because of the cold, but he knows the ice in his stomach is from something else entirely. They make the corner and the familiar stairs come into view, nearly stopping Haru in his tracks.

“Haru?” Makoto calls back, a few steps ahead. He isn’t phased by returning to his parents house, but then why should he be? He was here yesterday, and the week before that, and again and again. Makoto hadn’t let the street in front of their homes haunt him like Haru had.

“It’s nothing,” he says, catching up. Makoto isn’t convinced, but he understands and doesn’t press it. Haru was only here now because Makoto had invited him back, invited him to dinner with his family. This wasn’t about his past, and Haru needed to remember that.

Makoto leads them straight to the Tachibana doorstep and knocks, and Haru isn’t sure if its intentional or not that Makoto blocks his view up the stairs behind him. Makoto catches him looking and smiles at him.

“You might want to brace yourself,” he says. They can hear pounding from someone running down the stairs, and Haru look back at Makoto wildly.

“What does that mean?” he asks. Makoto looks apologetic. The door flies open and Haru misses his chance to make him explain.

“Oniichan you’re late!” A young woman stands in the door, hand on her hip, and Haru doesn’t even recognize her. Makoto laughs and apologizes, and a second head pops over the girls shoulder. This one looks around a little more than his sister, and he’s the first one to spot Haru. Haru feels a hundred years old looking at them.

 _You weren’t kidding_ , he thinks in Makoto’s general direction. _I wouldn’t have recognized them_. Ren’s eyes narrow as he tries to place where he’s seen Haru before, and his mouth gapes when he recognizes him.

“No way! Is that Haru-chan?” Ren asks, resting against Ran to lean out the door and look at him. Ran steps on his foot and he yelps.

“Idiot, you can’t call him that! We’re not little kids anymore,” she says exasperated. _Understatement_ , Haru thinks.

“I know that already, I just haven’t seen him in so long and I couldn’t help it,” Ren whines back at her. Ran huffs, both hands on her hips now. It gives Haru just enough time to recover from his shock.

“It’s been awhile, Ran, Ren,” he says. Makoto smiles encouragingly, and Haru tries to do the same. Ran and Ren look at each other, and both of them break out into wide grins.

“Can we come inside now?” Makoto asks. “I don’t really want to get caught in the rain,” he adds, eying the clouds above them. Ran and Ren move aside, and Haru and Makoto step up inside the house.

The first thing Haru thinks isn’t about how long it’s been since he’s been inside the Tachibana house, or how until recently he’d thought he’d never be back here. It isn’t even about how the tile in the genkan hasbeen redone since his last visit. His first thought is about how it still smells exactly the same, and he wonders how that’s possible.

His second thought, as he takes off his shoes and steps up into the house proper, is how annoyingly tall the twins have grown. Ran at least had the decency to stay just under his height, but Ren was taking after his brother in the growing like a weed department, and had to be at least Rin’s height.

“Um, so what should we call you?” Ren asks, and Haru has to look up to meet his eyes.

 _“ Ren_ ,” Ran hisses. “You don’t just ask people that!” Ren cocks his head.

“Why not? How else am I supposed to know,” he says and Ran rolls her eyes.

“Whatever is fine,” Haru says before they can argue over it. They smile, but Makoto frowns.

“They can call you Haru-chan but I can’t?” he says, lips pouting. “That’s not fair, Haru- _chan_.” Haru scowls at him.

“It’s not your birthday anymore,” he says and the twins laugh when Makoto slumps. They drag him inside and Haru follows timidly after him. They head to the living room, where Haru sees the best thing he’s seen all day.

“Dadda!” Mariko shrieks on her grandfather’s lap and Makoto laughs when she nearly wiggles out of it. His dad can barely get a word in over her squeals and giggles as Makoto picks her up and hugs her. Her hands come up to squish his cheeks and he indulges her with face making until she’s besides herself laughing. Ran and Ren join in and their dad complains lightly about how it _had_ been quiet until Makoto had shown up, but he’s turning the TV down and smiling with them anyway.

Haru hangs back, knives twisting in stomach. Makoto manages to kiss Mariko’s face and she grabs his nose. Haru feels himself softening watching them. Its a familiar scene, even though he’s seeing it for the first time with Mariko. But the Tachibanas were always like this, warm and affectionate. He can’t understand how he could have forgotten something so simple.

Makoto’s dad spots him against the entry and Haru straightens out and bows stiffly, well aware of the time that’s passed. He only nods kindly and waves him in, so Haru tentatively joins them. Mariko looks away from Makoto once he’s close enough, and the smile that blooms across her face at seeing him is devastating.

“Saba!” she calls and the Tachibanas laugh. Mariko reaches a hand out to him and Haru lets her hold one of his fingers.

“I told you,” Makoto says to no one in particular.

“I think it’s cute,” Ran says. Ren snorts. “Saba-chan,” he says and they both laugh. Haru looks to Makoto and Makoto shrugs.

“You _did_ tell them to call you whatever,” he reminds him. Haru sighs.

“Oh my,” Makoto’s mother appears from the kitchen, hiding her laugh politely with her hand. “You just got here and they’re already causing you trouble?” Haru bows to her too.

“It’s fine,” he says. If he was worried about seeing any of them again, it was Makoto’s mom that scared him the most. But she smiles and wraps her arms around him, and he only has long enough to recognize the faint scent of jasmine before she releases him. Makoto puts an arm around her and kisses the top of her head.

“How have you been dear?” She asks and he feels ashamed for being afraid of her.

“I’m,” he falters. Something about how sincere she is makes him want to confess, so he looks away before it can work. “I’m doing better,” he admits quietly.

“I’m glad to hear that, Haru,” she says, and he knows she means it. Haru chews his lip.

“You’re a handsome young man now,” she says wistfully. “I can hardly believe you’re the same little boy who thought the pool could dry out if you left the doors open too long.”

 _“ Mom_ ,” Makoto complains. Haru’s face is burning and he wishes he could hide behind something.

“Don’t embarrass Saba-chan,” Ren says playfully and Haru barely stops himself from groaning at the new nickname. Rin is going to have a field day if he ever finds out.

“That’s just a mother’s job,” she says matter-of-factly. “Dinner is almost ready.” She heads back to the kitchen and the family follows, and Haru gets swept in their tide. He helps the siblings set up the table while Makoto’s dad helps his mom dish the food, and quickly the table is littered with it.

Haru sits between Makoto and his mother, and his heart does a little flip when she passes a platter of salt grilled mackerel fillets. It’s impossible that it’s a coincidence, and he takes one for himself gratefully before passing the platter to Makoto. There’s broiled baby asparagus with salt and pepper and butter, grated daikon foam with soy sauce to go with the mackerel, cucumber salad, nikujaga and even beautiful miso soup that smells like it was made from scratch. Haru takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

It’s been a long, _long_ time since he’s had a family dinner like this.

Makoto passes him a pitcher full of ice water with a couple lemon slices floating in it, and Haru smiles at him when he takes it. Ran is telling her mom something about school while Ren entertains himself by holding spoonfuls of the daikon foam up for Mariko to eat from her spot on Makoto’s lap. She eats it for the most part, but sometimes she just smashes it between her hands. The pointed questions that Haru had braced himself for when he had agreed to come to dinner never come. He’s impressed an entire family could possess the same unassuming tact he’s come to expect from Makoto, but he’s not entirely surprised either.

Mariko smashes another handful of daikon and gleefully wipes her hands on Makoto’s shirt, and Makoto turns the conversation.

“Tell Haru about swim club, Ren,” Makoto says, and Haru knows its only so he stops helping Mariko make a mess, but he _is_ interested. Ren looks away.

“Its not a big deal,” he says. Haru chews a bit of his perfectly grilled mackerel.

“Makoto told me you’re the captain,” he says. Ren looks at Makoto and frowns.

“Oniichan likes to tell everyone that,” he says. Makoto smiles guiltily.

“He’s just proud of you. I tell everyone too,” their dad says, shrugging.

“Not you too, dad,” Ren says, sighing.

“What’s your event?” Haru asks and Ren goes pink.

“Ren does all of them,” Ran answers for him, biting through an asparagus. Haru’s surprised.

“That’s tough,” he says.

“I’m only good at the crawl though,” Ren mumbles into his bowl. That surprises Haru even more.

“I’m a captain too,” Ran adds and Makoto laughs.

“It’s not a competition, Ran,” he chides. Ran sticks her tongue out but Haru notices that Ren is more comfortable without the attention on him. In her own roundabout way, Ran is protecting him.

“Judo, right?” Haru asks. Ran smiles and launches into her adventures in throwing people around for sport. It’s clear the rest of them have heard the story several times over, but they just eat quietly and wait for her to run out of steam. Ren opens up more and more, and by the time plates and bowls start to empty Haru feels like he’s caught up on the highlights of their high school career.

Makoto feeds Mariko the last of his rice, and Haru wonders if it was his plan all along to get them talking and keep everyone from prickling Haru with questions instead. He gets the feeling dinner wouldn’t have been half as smooth if Makoto hadn’t been there to look out for him.

Makoto’s mother gets up first and Haru stands with her, taking plates to the sink before she can. She smiles at him and nudges Ren to go help. Makoto looks like he’s ready to get up and help too, but Haru shakes his head at him, so he takes Mariko back to the living room with the rest of them.

Ren was always quieter without Ran to antagonize him, and the first few minutes of washing dishes go by silently. Haru doesn’t realize any thing is off until he hands Ren one of the last plates to dry off and Ren nearly drops it. Haru holds it steady until he’s sure Ren has it, but Ren hesitates to take it from him.

“You okay?” Haru asks, because as much as he was taking after Makoto, Haru can’t read him at all. Ren flinches like he’s been shocked. He looks behind them to make sure they’re alone and takes a deep breath before facing Haru.

“He never talks about it, but you hurt him, didn’t you?” Ren says seriously. The sponge falls from Haru’s hand. Ren’s gaze is cool and level, and Haru wishes he could name any of what he sees swirling in his eyes. His mouth hangs open as he tries to decide what to say, but what could he say?

“Did he hurt you first?’ Ren asks. Haru feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach.

“He didn’t do anything,” Haru says, the words ripped out of him. “But I did.” Ren’s eyes bore into him for a small eternity.

They hear Mariko’s high peals of laughter from the other room, and the tension blows out of Ren like a switch. He rubs the back of his neck and looks ashamed that he’d asked something so personal.

“Sorry,” he says, and starts drying the plate Haru had already forgotten. Haru picks his sponge back up and aimlessly scrubs at a pot. Ren puts the plate away with a quiet clatter, and turns back to Haru.

“Can I ask you one more question?” Haru nods. The worst were already done.

“Are you going to do it again?” Haru sucks in a breath and turns to him.

“No,” and then, “Never.” Ren stares at him before nodding, accepting it. 

“Okay then,” he says. Haru hands him the pot, still feeling a little winded. Ren dries it and puts it away. Haru is rinsing the sink off, so Ren uses his new height to his advantage and rubs his hands through Haru’s hair, sending it in a hundred directions.

 _“ Hey_ ,” Haru starts irritably, but Ren’s smile kills the words in his throat.

“We missed you, Haru-chan,” he says. Haru points the nozzle at him and Ren runs before he can get totally soaked, laughing as he makes his escape. Haru shakes his head and pats down what he can. Ren has grown, but he’s still the same kid he knew, and the thought helps calm him after the stress of Ren’s questions.

Makoto laughs and calls him from the other room, and Haru smiles to himself as he goes to them.

 

  
It’s down pouring again by the time they decide to leave, and Makoto’s mother finds them the biggest umbrella the Tachibanas own with strict orders against getting her favorite granddaughter sick. Haru watches her fuss over bundling Mariko up, and thinks she’s wasting her energy worrying about it. Makoto would cut off his left thumb before letting anything happen to her.

Finally bundled to her standards, Makoto’s mom surprises Haru again by wrapping him in another hug after Makoto. He’s standing in the genkan, so she’s tall enough to press her lips to the top of his head while she does it, and Haru’s throat goes dry. She lets him go but holds onto his shoulders, looking straight into his eyes.

“You’re welcome here anytime, Haru. As always,” she says. Haru swallows. He doesn’t trust his voice, so he only nods. She pats the top of his head and turns back to Mariko in Makoto’s arms.

“Bye bye, Macchan. Can you say bye bye?” she coos. Mariko perks up and holds her hand up, mimicking her grandmother.

“Bye bye,” she says quietly, testing the words as they roll around in her mouth. Makoto’s amazed face turns to Haru’s, and he tosses her up in the air in celebration. She squeals and laughs, and says it again and again.

Makoto makes promises to come back soon, and Haru takes the umbrella as they finally head out the door. He walks out first so he can open it before Mariko can get rained on, and he looks automatically up the stairs towards his grandmother’s house. There are lights on inside it, and Haru wonders if a family bought the house after his left it. He wonders if they’re good people and if they’re half as warm and kind as the Tachibanas. Makoto emerges next to him and closes the door behind them. He follows Haru’s line of sight and knocks their shoulders together.

“Lets go?” he says gently and Haru nods. He holds the umbrella up higher so Makoto doesn’t have to stoop, and they turn their backs on the old house.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Makoto says once they’re a respectable distance away. Haru huffs.

“How could you let them get so tall?” he asks and Makoto snorts.

“Like I can stop them from anything,” he says. Haru looks at him.

“They listen to you when it matters,” he says. He looks away. “They love you a lot.”

“Mm…” Makoto goes quiet and thoughtful, and Haru waits for him to speak. Makoto doesn’t look at him when he does, just brings his free hand to rest on the back of his neck.

“You’ve seen this one right?” he says. His voice is almost drowned in the rain, and Haru moves in closer so he doesn’t miss anything.

“Yeah,” he says. Of course he has. Every time one of Makoto’s tattoo’s flash out at him from under his clothes they draw Haru’s attention like a beacon.

“This is the second one,” he starts. “It’s pretty obvious why.” Haru leans in against him, trying to encourage him.

“I was so nervous,” Makoto says. “When I decided to tell them.” Haru doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but Makoto isn’t done yet.

“I had friends in school, you know? Like me. And they all had horror stories about their parents finding out. Some of them don’t even speak any more, and I can’t-” he looks at Haru then, startled by his own words.

“I’m sorry, that’s really insensitive isn’t it?” he asks. Haru shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says dismissively. There was really no way to compare his parents with Makoto’s, but if he tells Makoto that it would only make him sad. They walk another block before Makoto continues.

“I never could work up the courage to tell them,” he says. “So I brought a boy home one weekend.” Haru gapes at him. That was much braver than just telling them, Haru thinks, but it was also just like Makoto to not realize that.

“What happened?” he asks, breaking Makoto out of his memory. Makoto absently brushes Mariko’s hair out of her face as she nods off against him.

“They didn’t blink,” he says. “We had dinner like it was the most normal thing in the world. When we left dad told me that as long as I’m happy, they’ll support me in whatever I do.” Makoto sounds wistful and Haru has another surge of affection for the Tachibanas well up in his chest.

“I’m happy for you,” Haru says, and he lets himself return a little of the smile Makoto sends to him. “Thanks for telling me.” Makoto presses against him.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he says.

The rest of their walk is quiet, and Haru uses it to play through the last few hours. He touches the spot on his head where Makoto’s mother had kissed him. That’s what a family should be like, he decides. He’d always used the Tachibanas as a measuring stick for what normal should be like, but in hindsight, it wasn’t like his family was that abnormal. Plenty of kids didn’t have families half as loving as Makoto had, and they had all grown up fine, so why did thinking about the empty table at his grandmothers house make him feel so lonely?

Before he knows it, they’re nearly to the train station. Just a couple more steps and Makoto will smile and tell him goodnight, and they’ll part ways. Haru will go home, lay on his little bed and wait for the morning to come.

Makoto checks the time on his watch and starts to turn to him, and Haru can hear the words before he can speak them. _Thank you_ and _goodnight_ and _I’ll see you soon_ , and Haru wants none of it. The thought of his cold apartment after two solid days of warmth is deafening.

“Stay with me,” the words rush out before he can stop them. Makoto freezes and Haru looks away, but it’s too late to take it back. He doesn’t really want to anyway.

“You have tomorrow off, right? So stay the night,” he repeats. The rain continues to crash around them, but the big umbrella protects them from the worst of it. Haru can feel the rain seeping in through his shoes. Makoto doesn't move, wrist still near his face. Haru counts the seconds tick away on it.

“Okay,” Makoto says, and his face is open and happy when Haru can meet it. “I’ll stay.”

 

  
They stop only to buy drinks from the vending machines outside Haru’s apartment before heading upstairs. If he’s honest, Makoto is a little excited.

Well. If he’s _really_ honest, that was an understatement. Makoto’s heart had stopped when Haru asked him to stay, even if he only meant for the night. He’s only been inside Haru’s mysterious apartment a few times, but never for very long, and he’s a little happy for a chance to go back.

Haru unlocks the door and lets him in first so he can shake the umbrella off, and Makoto surreptitiously takes a look around. He can’t see much in the dark, and he jumps a little when Haru flips the light on and comes in next to him. Haru doesn’t notice, and only slouches out of his coat and hangs it on the wall before disappearing inside. Makoto sighs and follows his example, a little gracelessly as he tries not to jostle Mariko too much. Haru comes back with a towel and Makoto thanks him for it. The umbrella kept him mostly dry, but it still feels nice to dry the rest of the way off.

“Make yourself at home,” Haru says and Makoto nods back to him. Even though Haru said that, Makoto doesn’t really know what to do. Mariko squirms against him.

“We need somewhere for her to sleep,” he says quietly. Haru comes up and presses his hand against her face and she rolls into it.

“I have an idea,” he says.

 

If you had asked Makoto what he thought he’d be doing with his Saturday night, he never would have answered with building a blanket fort for his daughter in the apartment of his estranged ex-best friend slash maybe boyfriend, but Haru pushes his desk against the wall to pinch a corner of a sheet in place, and here he was.

Blanket  _tent_ might be more accurate, but when Makoto had mentioned it Haru had obstinately shot it down, so fort it was. Makoto is pretty sure Haru’s brought every pillow and blanket he owns out for his creation, and he’s enjoying the engaged look on Haru’s face as he builds his palace more than making it himself.

Haru declares it finished, and they stand back to admire their work. Mariko had woken up when Makoto had changed her into her little pajamas, and he brings her to the fort and watches her face light up in amazement at it. He sits down and pulls a corner of a sheet up and she’s more than happy to crawl inside. Inside was only soft blankets and slightly lumpy pillows, and one kangaroo plush Makoto had dug out of her bag for her, and Haru sits next to him to watch her roll around in it.

“She loves it,” he says. Haru is watching her as closely as Makoto is, a small little smile on his face. “Thank you.”

Haru looks at him, eyes clear and bright and Makoto knows in this moment he loves Mariko too. His face heats and he and Haru look away at the same time, air suddenly stuffy around them. Mariko hugs on to her toy and falls down on a pillow, already starting to fall back asleep.

“Come on,” Haru says quietly, getting to his feet. “I might have something for you to sleep in.” Makoto gets up and follows him, but kind of doubts Haru has anything that would fit him. Haru likes things that cling and form to him while Makoto generally goes with something looser, and they hadn’t worn the same pant size since elementary school.

Haru leads him into his bedroom and pulls open a drawer on his wardrobe, so Makoto sits on his bed and looks around. Like the rest of Haru’s apartment, there was little to nothing personal. There’s a bookshelf with a handful of books and a couple of pictures of the ocean or lakes taped on the wall, but so little of Haru that it makes Makoto’s heart hurt.

He thinks about his own blank walls and thinks he understands where Kou was coming from. She was right, he needs to finally start putting stuff up and live in his own home. He’ll have to remember to thank her again.

Haru throws something on the bed next to Makoto, and when Makoto looks up at him Haru has his full attention. His eyes are still clear, but focused, the look of the calm right before a dive.

“Haru?” Haru’s eyes aren’t on him anymore. Makoto thinks they’re somewhere on his neck.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Haru steps forward and doesn’t let Makoto interrupt. He plants one knee on the bed next to Makoto’s thigh, forcing Makoto to look up at him.

“But I’m not drunk now,” he says, and Makoto’s throat goes dry. Haru leans down until their lips meet and Makoto doesn’t push him away when he slides down and sits on Makoto’s lap.

Kissing Haru is new and different every time, and Makoto won’t ever get tired of it. Today Haru was a mix; bolder than he was usually, but not as sloppy as he had been the night before, and all Makoto can think is how exciting it is that he’s _learning_. Makoto opens his mouth and takes Haru’s bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it in.

Haru’s hands find his back, his neck, his hair, and Makoto revels in the feel of them dumbly exploring. He switches Haru’s lip for his tongue and slips his own hands underneath Haru’s shirt, and devours the breath Haru tries to suck in at the contact. Makoto smiles against him and traces lazy patterns on Haru’s skin he knows are maddeningly slow compared to the pace Haru was trying to set with his mouth. Was he rushing so he doesn’t lose his nerve? Makoto considers it, and breaks them apart.

“Do you really want this?” he asks and his voice surprises him with how rough it comes out. Haru’s hands tighten in the back of Makoto’s shirt and he narrows his eyes at Makoto.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks. Makoto smiles and slowly rubs his the pads of his thumbs over Haru’s hips.

“I’m never going to force you, Haru,” he says patiently, “We can go as slow as you want.” Haru nods after a second, and Makoto hates that he’s a little disappointed at it.

“I want to keep going,” he says. Haru’s voice was barely a whisper, but he might as well have screamed it for the reaction it brings in Makoto.

“I- Yeah, yeah me too,” he admits and Haru spares him a tiny grin before leaning back and tugging on Makoto’s wrist, quietly telling him to take his shirt off. Makoto does, careful about pulling it over Haru’s head. As soon as Haru is free from it, his hands are back on Makoto, tugging his shirt up and over the same way. Makoto lets him, and fights to get his arms out of the rolled sleeves.

Bare chested with Haru on his lap, the reality of what they’re about to do starts to set in. Makoto runs a hand up Haru’s side and over his shoulder before cupping his face and tilting it to kiss him again. Haru sighs into it, content to take it slow this time. Makoto holds him close, one arm loosely around his waist and the other still on his neck, and takes his time kissing him. Haru was worth the effort of holding himself back.

Haru opens for him and Makoto slides their tongues together, and Haru shivers against him. Makoto’s already weak heart stutters and restarts. Haru rests his hands around Makoto’s neck, so Makoto starts to move his. He starts with Haru’s back, splaying his palms against the flat expanses of skin and moving down, but Makoto stops before the hem of his pants to move around, across his hips.

Haru’s breath catches in Makoto’s mouth and he moves them together again, lips against soft lips, Haru quickly mimicking every move Makoto makes. He moves his hands up now, steady and gentle, until Haru’s chest is in his hands. He tries flicking a thumb over one of Haru’s nipples, and Haru gasps and flinches against him. Makoto feels it go straight to his groin, but Haru doesn’t stop him so he does it to the other one too.

Haru’s breathing heavy now, so Makoto pulls his mouth off of him and moves down Haru’s jawline, kissing down into his pulse. Makoto listens to Haru’s breathing to guide him, and between nipping at his neck and rolling his nipples between his fingers, Haru lets out the first quiet moan.

 _Now_ this _is dangerous_ , Makoto thinks. Haru presses his face against the crook in Makoto’s shoulder but still doesn’t stop him, so Makoto runs his teeth over the same spot and teases until Haru lets out another little sound. _He’s not drunk_ , Makoto thinks, _but I might be_.

He rewards Haru by kissing him again, and Haru eagerly sucks Makoto’s lip into his mouth. Makoto’s pants are uncomfortably tight, but he doesn’t dare let go of Haru, just in case this is all some kind of wild dream. When Haru breaks them apart and kisses Makoto’s throat, Makoto isn’t ashamed to moan back to him. Haru looks up at him triumphantly.

“I want to keep going,” he says, each word punctuated with a kiss along Makoto’s shoulder. Makoto feels light headed just from hearing it.

“Okay,” he surrenders, “Okay.” Haru’s hands fall from his back and down his chest, but stop before they get to the button on his pants. Makoto can’t think straight enough to figure out why, so he kisses the side of Haru’s face to encourage him.

“I’ve.. Never..” Haru says, and Makoto smiles. He can understand that, it’s always going to be a little weird the first time with another guy. He gets a shameful little thrill at being the first guy with Haru like this though, and it makes his hands bolder on Haru’s hips as he undoes Haru’s button.

“Don’t worry, it’s not all that different from-”

“With anyone.” Haru cuts him off. Makoto hears static. Haru doesn’t meet his eyes, but he leans his head against Makoto’s shoulder to say the next part. “Ever.”

Makoto takes a breath, then another, then he’s cupping both sides of Haru’s face and pulling him in for another kiss.

“Oh Haru,” he sighs, and Haru relaxes against him. This was a challenge Makoto was more than willing to accept.

“Alright,” he says, petting Haru’s hair back. Haru’s eyes are big and a little unfocused and Makoto suddenly knows exactly what to do for him. “Relax and follow my lead, okay?” Haru huffs against him, but nods.

“Don’t I always?” Makoto nips at his neck. “Hush,” he says, kissing him to shut him up. All of his blood has long left his head, but Makoto is a man on a mission now, so he kisses and runs his hands over Haru until he has him moaning again, and then finishes with his pants. Makoto can see Haru straining against his underwear, and he licks his lips at the sight of the little damp spot.

“I’m going to touch you,” he says and Haru nods vigorously against him, Makoto runs a finger up it over the cloth, and Haru hisses. _Focus_ , Makoto thinks. _Focus on Haru first_.

He runs his fingers over him and slips his hand down far enough to reach Haru’s base, but it was awkward with Haru’s pants still half in the way. Makoto knows it’ll be easier for him to get used to being touched through fabric first though, so he keeps it up, storing every single sound Haru makes away for future use.

Haru quietly becomes putty in his hands, and Makoto decides he’s ready for skin contact. He nudges Haru and tugs on his pants until Haru gets the hint and stands. He keeps a steadying hand on Makoto while he shimmies out of his pants and underwear at once, and then Haru is naked on his lap.

Makoto thinks of all the times he’s dreamed of a situation like this, and none of them can compare. He catches Haru’s eyes and deliberately licks a slow stripe down his palm, enjoying the way Haru’s eyes blow wide and his breathing catches. Makoto takes him with one hand and his neck in the other, and kisses him before he makes his first stoke.

The moan that shudders out of Haru eclipses all the previous ones, and Makoto is happy to swallow it down. He does it again, a little firmer and Haru melts against him. Makoto lets him slump against his shoulder as he pumps him, finding the right pace and grip off of the delicious little sounds Haru makes in his ear. He flicks his thumb over one of Haru’s nipples and Haru nearly shouts at it, and Makoto decides its time for the next step.

He slows his hand on Haru and undoes his own pants, significantly harder one handed and empty-headed, but the burning need to feel something himself pulls him through it. He finally manages and pulls himself and Haru up just enough to shove everything off his hips before sitting back down. Normally, the cool air against the exposed skin over his hips and thighs might make him shiver, but Haru moaning in his lap was enough to keep him warm all winter long.

Haru looks down at him and then back to his face, pupils blown wide and hazy. Makoto kisses him and nods, and Haru gingerly reaches down to touch him back. The contact sends shocks up his spine, and Makoto squeezes Haru and picks up his speed. Haru bites back another moan and Makoto really, _really_ can’t take it anymore. He pulls Haru until they’re right up against each other, and takes them both in his hand.

Both of them moan. Makoto licks his free palm and Haru’s dazed eyes watch him as he adds it to his other hand. The little bit of moisture is all that he needs to start stroking them in earnest, and Haru gives up and slumps against him after mere moments. Makoto starts to see sparks fly behind his eyes, Haru’s breathy moans driving him to the edge much faster than it usually takes to get him there. _Haru, Haru_ , he thinks, losing himself. _Haru first_.

Haru shudders out his name, and Makoto bites his lip to keep from coming right then. Haru wraps a hand around them and Makoto lets go with one of his, desperate to keep touching Haru as he grinds them together.

“Makoto,” Haru breathes. Makoto wants it to be the last thing he hears. He squeezes them harder and Haru claws at his back with his free hand. Makoto was close, but Haru was closer. Makoto gently pinches his nipple and not so gently bites his neck, and Haru’s breathing gets erratic. Haru tries to return it, but only sloppily presses his open mouth against Makoto’s neck instead. It’s more than enough.

“Haruka,” Makoto moans, and it comes out like a prayer. Haru goes stiff and clamps his teeth around Makoto’s neck to stifle himself as he comes in their hands, and Makoto gives in and follows him seconds later. For a brilliant moment, everything is too intense and overwhelming, and Makoto thinks he might die this way but it would be worth it, it would be _so_ worth it.

Then, reality starts to tiptoe its way in around him, but Haru’s whole weight is slumped against him as he tries to catch his breath, and Makoto is happy he’s alive. The hot proof of what they’d done is sticky and dripping between them, and Makoto gently lets go of them to embrace Haru with both arms. He’s still panting himself, but he slowly evens himself out with Haru’s breathing.

“You okay?” Makoto asks, tracing slow circles with his clean hand on Haru’s back. Haru is heavy against him, but Makoto likes it. Haru nods into his shoulder.

“Mm,” he says and Makoto smiles. “Want to sleep now?” he asks.

"Mm,” Haru says. _Cute_ , Makoto thinks. Haru leans back and makoto gets to see his face. Makoto bites his lip, afraid he might not let Haru sleep after all. His eyes are a little glassy and unfocused, his hair sweat slicked and screwed up, and Makoto can see little red marks all down his neck. _I did that_ , Makoto thinks and he can barely hold it in. Haru smiles a little, but he’s already fighting to keep his eyes open. He leans in and presses their foreheads together and Makoto twines his hand in his hair.

Makoto doesn’t say it. He’s not some delusional teenager anymore, and he knows sex doesn’t always equate love, so Makoto doesn’t say it. But he wants to, _god_ does he want to. He closes his eyes, and concentrates on the feeling of Haru against him, and lets everything else melt away. This was right where he wanted to be, and he wasn’t going to mess it up by getting ahead of himself.

Eventually, Haru pulls away and frowns at the mess between them. Makoto smiles and lets Haru stand. He probably wants a bath after this, and Haru predicably walks to his bathroom. Makoto watches him go and sighs. He knows better than to expect anything else. He closes his eyes and lets his head hang back when he hears the water running.

Something warm and moist presses against his stomach, and Makoto looks up so quickly he makes himself dizzy. Haru lets go of the damp towel he was holding against him and looks away. His face is still flushed as he picks his underwear up from where he’d dropped it and tugs it on. Makoto distractedly wipes himself off, and Haru finds his underwear too, holding it out to him. Makoto takes it wordlessly and cocks his head.

“Lets go sleep,” Haru says, still not looking at him. Makoto watches and catches Haru peek at him. Makoto laughs and gets dressed, remembering Haru had thrown something at him a lifetime ago before they’d gotten distracted in each other. He pats around on the bed until he finds it, and holds up one of his old tshirts questioningly.

“I could have just worn what I came in,” he says laughing. Haru gets redder and snatches it from him. He says something under his breath and Makoto tilts his head to the other side.

“Haru?”

“I said,” he says, loud enough this time. “This isn’t for you.” Haru unrolls it and tugs it over his shoulders, then heads back to the living room, leaving Makoto stunned on the bed. Makoto covers his mouth with one of his hands and stifles a laugh, but he can’t muffle the little streaks of joy flowing through his veins. He’s going to give Haru all of his shirts, every single one he owns.

He comes out to see Haru crawl into his fort, and Makoto smiles when he crouches down to follow him. Mariko sleeps soundly on the far side of it, her kangaroo bunched up under her head. It’s a tight fit with Makoto, but he settles himself down in the middle on his back and slides Mariko up against him. Haru squeezes up against his other side, and Makoto arches his neck to kiss the top of his head. Haru moves until he’s comfortable, and drapes one arm over Makoto’s chest to pet Mariko’s hair back from her face.

His hand slows and stills, and Makoto thinks he’s asleep. Makoto can barely keep his own eyes open, so he lets them shut and listens to the sound of their breathing instead. He’s comfortable, warm and deeply satisfied, and it doesn’t take him more than another minute before he’s out, drifting between colorless dreams.

 

Haru waits until Makoto’s breaths are slow and deep, and his head tilts listlessly to the side before looking up at him. He’s fighting sleep, but he just wants to look at him a little longer. Makoto’s face is restful, little smile still on his lips. Haru moves his hand from Mariko and up to Makoto, brushing his hair back just as gently as he had his daughter’s. He remembers calling him pretty the night before, but now he thinks that’s wrong. Makoto isn’t _pretty_ , the word doesn’t do him justice. Beautiful, maybe, but Haru knows Makoto wouldn’t accept it. _Handsome_ , he decides.

Feather light so he doesn’t wake him, Haru traces Makoto’s features, his cheekbones, his nose, the back of his eyelids. He doesn’t touch his lips, sure that would be pushing his luck, but his eyes linger on them anyway. _But you hurt him, didn’t you?_ Ren’s voice echoes in his ears. _Yes_ , Haru thinks, _but I meant what I said too. Never again._

“I want to take care of you too,” he says softly. He presses a kiss into Makoto’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS ENDED UP SO LONG I'M SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Identity theft is a _crime,_ Makoto,” he says. “I didn’t know I was going somewhere with a criminal.”

“Haruka-kun, why don’t you go home early?” Haru pauses in the middle of wiping his area down to look at her. Mai looks amused, and in Haru’s experience that means he’s probably missed something. He frowns and looks around his work area. Besides the counter he was in mid-wipe over, his space was pristine. He frowns back at her and finishes cleaning the counter.

“I only have another couple hours,” he says sullenly. Mai leans against his counter and flips through her schedule book.

“I’m not kicking you out, but we’re slow and I figured you’d want to go see Makoto sooner than later,” she says, eyes not leaving her page as she jots something down. Haru crosses his arms.

“How did you know I was seeing him after work?” He has to have a tell. There’s no way she can read him that well on her own. She licks a finger to turn her page, thumb on her other hand keeping her place.

“You’ve wiped that counter down three times,” she says. Haru swallows. “I appreciate the enthusiasm for keeping the place clean but-” she closes her pen in her book and smiles when she delivers the final blow.

“You could probably burn off that energy better with him, right?” Haru flushes and knows it stands out against the stark white of his chef’s jacket.

“That’s not- _we’re_ not-” Haru hates stuttering, but he’s getting redder my the minute.

“We’re just going swimming, Mai. Swimming,” he surrenders, dragging one hand down his face. Mai taps her chin with one perfectly manicured finger.

“I’ve never heard it called that,” she says, honestly sounding curious. Haru looks up, where some callous god is surely watching him suffer and laughing.

“He teaches a _children’s_ class.” Mai smiles wolfishly at him and Haru decides to take her up on her offer to leave early. He tosses his towel towards the laundry and pushes past a laughing Mai towards the employee room.

“Tell Makoto I’ll come _swim_ with him anytime!” Mai laughs after him and Haru shakes his head. Maybe he can bring a brochure from the pool about the swimming classes to prove his innocence.

He changes and is walking back through the kitchen to slip out the back, already looking forward to his evening with Makoto, despite Mai’s implications. He goes a little warm remembering the last time Makoto had stayed over, but he still hadn’t really lied to her. Technically, they still hadn’t gone all the way. His mind plays the look on Makoto’s face while his hands had wrapped around Haru and _moved,_ and Haru hurries towards the door.

“Haruka-kun! I still need suggestions for a special!” Mai yells from the other side and Haru waves as he slips out the door. It was a Sucre tradition, for Mai to take suggestions for specials from her chefs every couple months for a pastry or dessert. There weren’t really rules towards it, except that if Mai chose yours, it was your show. It was a nice way for her to let young chefs play with their own recipes and get experience running the show, and doubled as a way for Mai to showcase the diversity in her own cafe. Haru had done it once or twice, but he hadn’t entered anything this round yet. He still feels like he hasn’t been back long enough to intrude, but Mai would probably bug him about it unless he gave her a straight answer.

He closes the door behind him and nearly runs into Maeda-san. She must have gone out just before him, and she’s silently struggling with a bag of garbage on the short walk to the dumpster in the back of the alley. Haru grabs a handful of the strained plastic, and Maeda-san shoots him a calculating look before realizing who she was dealing with and relaxing.

“Thank you, Haruka-san,” she says, and Haru makes it out more through predicting what she’d say than actually hearing her. Maeda-san was one of the few chefs that predated Haru at Sucre, and they had always gotten along through their mutual quiet nature alone. She walks with him, and holds the lid on the dumpster open for him to toss the waste in. They had worked together like that for years before, neither needing to say much to the other. She lets the lid down quietly, but it still spooks a cat that shoot from behind it and down past the back door to the cafe. Haru watches it flee, and recognizes it as one of the strays he used to feed out the back the last time he worked here. He’s surprised it had stuck around after Haru had quit and stopped bringing it food.

“Mai-san has a kind heart,” Maeda-san says, just loud enough for Haru to catch. Haru looks at her but she doesn’t offer any explanation. She takes the step back to the cafe, and bows slightly to Haru before disappearing back inside, warm gust of sugared air wafting up after her. Haru stands for a second, before something glints and catches his eye on the ground.

It’s just a shoddy looking crate, but when Haru crouches down he sees bowls of cat food and water, and what he suspects is a catnip toy in the back. He leans back, and is even more surprised to see a similar crate, but this one stuffed with blankets. Someone has clearly been taking care of the strays around here. Mai used to make fun of him for keeping a little bag of kibble inside the door, but now that he thinks about it, she never told him he couldn’t.

Haru looks back at the cafe and smiles to himself. He pulls his muffler up tighter around his face and starts walking towards the train. He’ll have to figure out his special before his next shift.

 

Haru calls Makoto’s name as he slips out of his shoes. Makoto doesn’t answer, but Haru can hear quiet music from somewhere upstairs, so he knows he’s close. Haru hangs up his coat and heads up, radio and curious smell of paint getting stronger as he goes.  

“Makoto?” Makoto’s door is closed, but the spare room’s door is wide open. Haru peeks in and is met with Makoto’s broad back and a wave of fresh paint. In the second it takes for Makoto to realize he’s there Haru takes in the paint roller in his hands, the blue painters tape lining the room, the light teal spread sloppily over the longest wall. Makoto turns to him with a smile, and Haru has to fight his own at the paint smeared over his cheek.

“Haru! Sorry, is it already that late?” Makoto looks at his wrist before realizing he’s not wearing his watch, and Haru feels his lips twitch at his little frown.

“It’s fine, I’m early,” he says, “Where’s Mariko?” Makoto shrugs towards his room and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Napping. Didn’t want her in here while I painted her room anyway.” Haru looks around a little closer and wonders how long Makoto’s been at it. He’d had the whole day off. Haru raises an eyebrow at him and Makoto laughs a little sheepishly.

“Not much progress, huh? But look, I have this whole wall done!” Makoto turns happily to show him, and Haru hums at his work. He did indeed have one wall finished, and Haru feels oddly proud of him for it. He eyes the corner of supplies and picks up a spare roller.

"You missed some,” he says, and Makoto frowns.

“You’re going to ruin your clothes like that, Haru,” he pouts. Haru shrugs. Inevitably, all of his shirts seem to end up with paint one way or another. It doesn’t satisfy Makoto, and when he pulls his shirt up over his head to pass it to Haru, Haru mutely accepts it.

“At least put this on over it,” Makoto says. Haru nods dumbly. Makoto is wearing a thin undershirt, and Haru can just make out a tan sliver of skin above his waistband where it rode up. Haru pulls the shirt on over his head and hopes it isn’t obvious when he takes a second to inhale it.  

“Thanks,” Makoto says, and it draws Haru back.

“For what?”

Makoto raises an eyebrow, like it’s obvious.

“For saving me,” Makoto says. Haru’s breath traps in his throat. Makoto blinks and smiles again. “With all this” he says, gesturing at the unpainted walls. Haru exhales.

“Sure,” he says. Makoto dunks his roller in the paint and starts on the next wall, turning away from him. He talks about picking out the paint, Mariko grabbing at this particular color from the paint chip wall, getting help from the people at the store. Haru listens as he wets his roller with paint too, but he’s only hearing half of it. He’s too distracted by his own heart pounding against his chest.

 

Hours and liters of paint later and they’re back in the truck, the quick drive to the swim center a long familiar ride by now. Haru watches the rain pouring outside, already thinking about diving into the pool. Makoto hums along to the radio, and Mariko, now awake, sometimes interrupts with her own creative take on the lyrics. Haru’s reflections smiles back at him.

Makoto pulls them into their usual parking space, and looks a little surprised when Haru comes around to help with Mariko instead of darting inside like he usually does. Haru holds his hands open and Makoto passes her to him, Mariko chirping happily in his ear. They walk in together and Makoto waves them through reception, hands fidgeting on the straps of his bags. Mariko waves in a sloppy imitation of her father and Haru squeezes her tighter.

“Can she swim with us?” Haru looks at Makoto hopefully, and Makoto’s mouth hangs open before softening.

“She’s a little young to actually swim,” he says.

“I know, but-” But what? That Haru missed her? Makoto waits patiently for him to answer, even though Haru knows they don’t have long before his class starts.

“But it’s lonely,” he says, and feels small. “For her to be the only one not swimming.” He amends. Makoto watches him, and Haru has no doubt he’s been seen straight through.

“Okay,” he concedes, and Haru blinks backup to him. Whatever Makoto’s thinking, he keeps it to himself. 

“If she starts crying you’ll have to take her out,” he says and the moment is gone. Haru huffs at him.

“She never cries,” he counters. Memories of Mariko crying and screaming the first time he’d watched her flash behind his eyes and Makoto smiles knowingly.

“She won’t cry in the water,” he says sullenly. He shouldn’t be surprised Rin told Makoto about that, really. Makoto laughs quietly and leads them towards the lockers, and Haru feels better when they pass the door to the daycare.

“Do we even have the stuff for her to swim?” Makoto says, and Haru knows he’s won.

“I packed it,” he says, tugging on the strap for Mariko’s bag where it hangs from Makoto’s shoulder. Makoto smiles at him.

“You planned this?” he says, amused. Haru shrugs.

“Alright, alright, you win. As long as she behaves and you keep a hand on her, I’ll trust you and not spend the whole class worrying about it.” Makoto says it lightly and with a laugh, but Haru can tell how serious it is for him. He doesn’t know how to tell him that he’d never let anything happen to her, that he’d let himself drown before he’d let her go under. He has no idea how to convey how serious he is about it without bringing Makoto down right before his class.

“I won’t let go of her,” he promises. Makoto blinks, recognizing the repetition, understanding Haru is acknowledging his fears but having the tact to not voice them. He pets Mariko’s head, brushing her hair aside. It’s gotten long since Haru’s known her. He wonders who cuts it. Before he can give it much thought Makoto lifts her from Haru’s arms, holds her with one of his and pulls Haru in under the other.

“Thank you Haru,” he says. Haru nods against him. Trapped by Makoto’s arm, there’s little else he can do. Makoto pulls away just as quickly as he’d come, and Haru nearly sways after him.

“You can go ahead, I’ll get her changed and bring her out before the kids start showing up,” Makoto says. He looks back to normal to Haru, so Haru nods again and finishes with his clothes. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to swim a bit on his own, but he was content to wait until after Makoto’s class for it.

He closes his locker and looks back at Makoto, the top half of his suit hanging down around his waist while he ties up Mariko’s hair. Makoto catches him looking and waves him off with a laugh.

“Go on, I know you want to. We’ll be right behind you,” he says. Haru does want to. But he hasn’t seen Makoto’s whale tattoo since the last time he’d seen Makoto naked, and it’s bringing memories back to him in rapid succession.

“Haru,” Makoto cuts through the thoughts, and Haru stares at him like a child caught with his hand in a candy jar. Makoto leans down, kisses the top of his head, and turns him by his shoulders.

“Go _swim,”_ he says, giving Haru a little push. Haru doesn’t need to be told twice.  

 

Haru loses count of how many laps he does underwater. It’s only been a few days- Makoto’s class swims regularly, and now, so does Haru- but the water revives him like it’s been weeks. He touches the wall to make the turn and kicks harder, reveling in the feeling of the water rushing past him. He’s stronger than he was the first time Makoto brought him here, the water more alive when it dances through his fingers.

The burning in his lungs is the only reason he surfaces, but he’s glad he did when Makoto’s waiting hand looms in front of him. Haru shakes the water out of his hair and looks up, noticing Mariko already equipped in her swimsuit and a small arsenal of floaties.

“Don’t push yourself so hard, Haru. You’ve got all night to swim,” Makoto says, but he sounds more amused than chastising. Haru fights down a smile and takes his hand. He wonders when he’ll get used to how easily Makoto can pull him out of the water.

“I feel good,” Haru says, and Makoto squeezes his hand before letting him go.

“You’re doing much better,” he agrees. Haru scoffs and turns his attention to Mariko, sitting on the edge of the pool next to her. She chirps and tries to move closer to him, and Haru feels Makoto’s eyes on his back.

“Ready to swim?” he asks her.  Mariko has water wings around her arms and an inner tube, but she reaches out towards Haru anyway. Haru picks her up and her hands go right to his hair, fisting clumps of it until water drips over her fingers, much to her delight.

“I think that’s a yes,” Makoto says. “We’re still working on that one.”

“She’ll get there,” Haru says. Makoto shakes his head and kneels down to help, letting Haru slip back into the pool before passing him his daughter. Mariko ohs at the feeling of the water, but swings back to Makoto once she realizes he isn’t getting in after her. Makoto smiles and pats her head, so she smiles back at him.

“I’ll come swim with you two in a bit, okay?” he says, and Mariko gums something back that isn’t quite a word.

“Maybe Haru can teach you how to blow bubbles, you’d love that,” he says. Haru tugs her by the inner tube when she starts to float, and she looks at him like he’s grown another head.

 _“Saba!”_ she says, somewhere between surprise and cross. Haru opens his mouth, but she tries to waddle away and ends up splashing pool water in his face. Mariko erupts into giggles, so Haru lifts a hand to the surface and flicks water right back at her.

“Behave, _both_ of you,” Makoto says, but he’s fighting his own laugh. “You’re going to interrupt class.”

“She’ll be good,” Haru says, still splashing water at her. Makoto dips his hand down and flings a handful of water at Haru.

“You too,” Makoto says. Haru pulls Mariko in front of him like a shield, and Makoto laughs and waves them off. He heads over to the shallow side of the pool just as the first kids start piling out of the locker rooms, and Haru and Mariko watch him go. Mariko goes quiet, so Haru taps on her inner tube to get her attention and she goes back to splashing at him.

They spend Makoto’s class alternating between splash wars and Haru holding her hand while gliding up and down the lanes, pulling her along like a tug boat. It’s not the same as swimming with Makoto, but Mariko rolls and kicks until she can touch the wall when he finishes a lap with her, and the sound of excitement she makes each time makes him fond and soft. She was having fun, and Haru had to admit he was too, strangely, he was too.

Haru tries to show her how blowing bubbles under water works, but it ends up being closer to a game of peek-a-boo, with Haru sinking under for a couple seconds before popping his head back to happy giggles and _sabas._ Mariko tries to touch his face when he surfaces, and it evolves into a mix of peek-a-boo and whack a mole. He’s in the middle of their game when Makoto’s class ends, and would have kept playing and dodging Mariko’s hand except he hears Makoto say her name from across the pool.

He goes still to listen, and Mariko’s hand paps the top of his head. She cheers triumphantly, but Haru is more distracted by Makoto and his class, all eyes on Haru and Mariko. He misses what one of the students says to him, but Makoto looks at the clock on the wall and smiles, and his students break out in grins too.

“Sure, let’s go meet them,” Makoto says, and Haru goes into red alert. Meet them, as in meet Haru and Mariko? He unconsciously lets himself sink a little further so the water can hide more of his face as Makoto leads his class over.

Makoto kneels on the edge and reaches a hand out towards him, his little flock gathered around behind him with big round eyes. Haru hasn’t had this many people focused on him in a pool since college. He keeps a hand on Mariko’s inter tube, but he can feel the skin stretch tight over his knuckles. He’s just getting back to swimming, he can’t have this many people watching. He has trouble swallowing, the chlorine air he loves so much suddenly suffocating.

“Haru,” Makoto says, and Haru blinks until he finds his eyes. _Stay here,_ Haru tells himself, and watches the green in Makoto’s eyes while he counts his heartbeats. Makoto’s smile is slow to reach his eyes. He has something to say, but knows this isn’t the time nor place. Haru exhales.

“Come on over,” Makoto says with the tone that could coax wild animals into his palm. Haru supposes it isn’t far from the reality as he moves close enough to take Makoto’s hand and let him pull him and Mariko up to the edge. Mariko’s inter tube bumps into the pool wall, and Makoto lowers their joined hands under the water so the children can’t see that he hasn’t let go of Haru yet. Haru holds on tight.

“Okay everyone, this is my daughter Mariko, she’s only a year old so you have to be very careful,” he says. Mariko watches the class as intently as they watch her. Makoto squeezes Haru’s hand and lets go, and it takes all of Haru’s will not to chase after that hand when he turns the attention back on him.

“And this is Nanase-san, a good... Friend of mine,” Makoto smiles at his students. They don’t notice the hesitation like Haru does. Haru looks at him, but Makoto is turned away and Haru can’t get a read from him. Six months ago, Haru doesn’t think he would have been _anything_ to Makoto, having not spoken to him in years. Three months ago, they were speaking for the first time in nearly a decade, and Makoto didn’t hesitate to call him friend. A week ago, Haru had sat on his lap while they got off together, so why the hesitation, why now? Haru’s so far in his head that he barely notices when the kids share a quick glance behind Makoto’s back, and then they’re rushing to the edge of the pool so quickly Haru worries they’ll collide and fall in.

“Nice to meet you Nanase-san!” They yell in unison, and Mariko gets excited from their energy and yells with them. It startles Haru back into his manners, so he raises himself up out of the water and stands up straight.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he says and they beam at him. He can’t pinpoint who asks the first question, but the rest join in like an avalanche, to the point where Haru is sure he can only understand a third of everything being said. He looks desperately to Makoto, and Makoto laughs and raises his hands, quieting his students until he can speak.

“Alright alright! We don’t have long so you can only ask a couple questions, but one at a time, okay?” He says and the kids group together to hold council. One of the girls tugs at Makoto’s hand, and he nods for her to ask her question.

“How long have you known Coach Tachibana?” she asks Haru. Haru blinks. He can’t remember a time he _didn’t_ know Makoto. Until recently.

“Since before we were your age,” he says, and is met with a chorus of amazed whoas.

“Are you a coach too? Why are you always swimming when we have class? How’d you get so fast?” This time it’s a boy, and Makoto frowns at him until he apologizes for breaking the one at a time rule.

“I’m uh,” he wants to say he’s not as fast as he used to be, but that will only raise more questions. He can’t tell tell them he’s a drop out, or that he’s only here as a rehabilitation project from Makoto’s generosity either.

“Nanase-san watches Macchan for me a lot, so I let him come swim here as thanks. He’s so fast because he eats all his vegetables,” Makoto says. His class splits between giggles and groans.

 _“Cooach,_ come on that’s not true,” one of them complains from the back. Makoto smiles blandly at him.

“I do eat all my vegetables,” Haru supplies, and Makoto shoots him an appreciative look. Haru steps up closer to the edge, and the students lean in when he holds up his hand like he’s sharing a secret.

“I eat all my vegetables _and_ mackerel,” Haru says, and watches their reactions. A couple still look skeptical, but at least one little girl nods along like she has a suspicion it was something like that. Haru decides she’s his favorite. Mariko seems to have had enough not being the center of attention, and she tugs on Makoto’s arm until he pulls her up out of the water. No less than three students ask to hold her, and Haru has a terrified moment where he tries to calculate just how bad Mariko being dropped from an eight year old’s height would be.

“Not without your parent’s permission,” Makoto lies smoothly, and Haru relaxes. “Which reminds me, it’s time you all went and got changed, they’re going to be here soon.” The kids groan and slump but let Makoto herd them towards the lockers easily enough. Makoto takes Mariko with him, and one girl Haru recognizes as the one who was afraid to jump before holds Makoto’s free hand until she has to go change, asking about Mariko the whole way.

Haru sighs and floats on his back, releasing the tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. He certainly wasn’t expecting to be interrogated by a group of grade school students this evening, but they weren’t that bad. He smiles and pushes off a lane divider before he floats into it. They weren’t that bad with Makoto to manage them. He was going to be a brilliant father, no matter how old Mariko got.

He opens his eyes and Mariko looks down at him. She plants both her hands solidly on his cheeks, claiming another victory in their game. He rolls over and swims under her, surfacing behind her as quietly as he can. Before she can spin back to him, he pokes the back of her head for his own small win. Makoto bites back a laugh behind him when Mariko calls for him.

“You two have been having fun,” he says. Haru holds out a hand and floats Mariko over when she grabs it. He looks back to Makoto and the depth in his eyes makes him pause. Makoto was seeing something beyond them. It wasn’t a solemn expression, and Haru wants to be in on it.

“What is it?” He asks. Makoto’s legs hang in the water from his spot on the edge of the pool, and Haru is close enough to lean his head against him. It’s a little selfish of him to ask to be let in on Makoto’s thoughts like this with his track record, but he does it anyway. Makoto threads his fingers through Haru’s hair, and Haru sighs, enjoying it.

“Its nothing. You’re just really good with her. I’m happy,” Makoto says, and Haru smiles against his leg.

“You were having fun too,” Haru reminds him. “With your class.” Makoto hums in agreement.

“They’re good kids. Sorry for ganging up on you earlier.” Haru’s eyes have closed without his permission under Makoto’s hand, but he doesn’t need to see Makoto’s face to know what expression he was wearing. He’s reluctant to make him stop, but there’s something Haru wants more, so he rolls his head enough to look up at Makoto.

“Do you have time to swim with us?” he asks, and Makoto answers by sliding into the water in one fluid motion.

“I’ve been waiting all night,” he says, and Haru matches his smile. He’d been hoping he’d say that.

 

They head to a convenience store for bento boxes for dinner, both of them a little tired to cook a real meal, and Makoto drives them back to his house without even asking if Haru intended to stay over. Haru very much did.

Mariko falls asleep sometime during the short drive back, totally worn out from swimming. Haru might have been right there with her, but his stamina has been steadily returning to him. Another thing he has to thank Makoto for, probably. But still, when Makoto stifles a yawn pulling her out of the truck, Haru catches it and mirrors him.

“Come on, I’ll put her to bed, we can eat and go to sleep early.” Makoto smiles at him.

“Sounds good,” Haru says, and means it. Even when he thinks about it, he doesn’t really want anything more from his night. He opens the door with his key and lets them in. Makoto heads upstairs with Mariko fast asleep in his arms, and Haru takes their food into the kitchen to warm it up. He flicks the light on and stops himself short right before he drops their bag on the table.

Makoto’s friendly kitchen table looks like it’s out of a detective movie, mug half full of cold coffee sitting among dozens of photos covering the entire surface. Haru pulls a chair out, only to find a couple boxes stacked on the seat. He lifts the lid to confirm, more photos. The second chair has the bag full of all the frames Kou had gotten for Makoto’s birthday, and that solves at least one mystery. Haru moves slowly, cautious. There was enough quantity over the table and in the boxes to cover years and years. Haru sets their food on the counter and turns on the kettle.

He knows he shouldn’t pry, so he makes himself busy dishing their food out onto plates and warming them. It doesn’t take enough of his attention. He leans against the counter as the microwave counts down, and tries not to snoop. He can see Makoto in most of them. He hears Makoto’s footsteps on the stairs and turns back to the kettle.

“I know it’s just microwaved but that smells so good,” Makoto says. Haru huffs. Makoto hugs him from behind. Haru hadn’t realized he was cold until Makoto warmed him back up. Haru leans against him, and Makoto rests his chin on the top of his head.

“Tea?” Haru asks. Makoto nods against him, laughs a little when it makes Haru’s head nod with him.

“Food,” Makoto agrees. Haru shakes his head, Makoto laughs again when it shakes his, and starts his cup anyway. The microwave beeps, and Makoto releases him to get it. He pulls the first plate out and realizes there’s nowhere on the table to put it. He frowns and starts making stacks. Haru puts the second plate in the microwave and brings their drinks, leaning around Makoto’s shoulder. It’s not invading Makoto’s privacy if Makoto is there too.

Makoto nudges a chair with his foot, and Haru takes it. He’s moving the pictures so they have somewhere to eat, but not putting them away. Haru sets Makoto’s mug down and sips his quietly. Makoto catches his eye and runs a hand through his still damp hair. It’s short enough that when Makoto takes his hand away a second later, his hair stays pushed back and messed up.

“You _can_ look, you know,” he says. Haru looks back down into his mug. Makoto smiles. “I already told you I’ll talk about anything.” Haru peeks over his mug and Makoto slides a stack towards him. The microwave beeps again and Makoto turns to it. Haru looks at the stack in front of him. The picture on top is recent, judging by how big Mariko is in it.

Haru picks it up tentatively. He notices one of Rin’s jackets in the background, and figures he must be the one taking the picture. He slides the photo to the back of the stack, and starts carefully looking through the last few years of Makoto’s life. The next one is taken by Makoto, a smaller Mariko asleep on his chest. Haru can just make out the glint of Makoto’s teeth smiling in the corner. It must have been some time before Haru came back. He bites his lip and flips to the next one.

He nearly drops the stack. His heart skips because he _recognizes_ this one. He’s seen it before, years ago. He saw it online, one of Rin’s social media pages. January, in a moment of clarity that he was entering another year alone. Haru had found Rin’s pages easily enough, even without an account. He hadn’t won gold yet, but Matsuoka Rin was still an Olympian.

Haru was entertaining the idea of calling him when he’d scrolled to this picture. He blinks again. It’s not exactly the same picture, he realizes. The one in his hands was probably right before the public one Rin had shown the world. It’s New Year’s in the photo, snow falling lightly at their first temple visit of the year. Rin, Yamazaki, Makoto and who he now recognizes as Tatsumi piled on top of each other in Rin’s, all brilliant smiles looking forward. It had overwhelmed Haru the first time. To Haru, curled up in a comforter in the dark of his apartment, they had looked _radiant._ He had barely even noticed Tatsumi underneath Rin’s arm, and honestly, hadn’t spent much time on Rin or Yamazaki either.

Makoto was what he had focused on, what had burned him like hot iron. Rin’s comment had read “Happy New Year’s from my friends and I to you and yours~”. It had thousands and thousands of notes, comments, shares. Cold-blushed Makoto smiled at him through Haru’s computer screen, and he had closed it and pulled his comforter closer around himself. He didn’t sleep for days, Makoto’s smile was scarred on the back of his eyes.

Makoto sets his plate down in front of him, and Haru sucks in a breath. He doesn’t remember when he stopped breathing. Makoto hums as he fixes his own plate, and Haru forces himself to _stay here,_ in the present. He looks at the picture in his hands again, more candid than Rin’s was. They’re all dressed nicely, Yamazaki has one arm hanging lazily inside the fold of his kimono as he leans in against Makoto, grinning while he tells him something that makes Makoto even redder than the snow had. Rin has an arm around Tatsumi and the decency to cover his mouth while he laughs, while Tatsumi hangs off him and laughs openly. They look like they’re close, like they’re having fun.

When Haru had seen the first picture, Makoto’s screen name had been right there too. Haru could have clicked on it, gone to his page. Seen everything Makoto cared to share with the public. Eventually, he had had to open his laptop back up, and Makoto’s name had still been waiting for him. He had stared at it, unable to decide if he dared to click it and fall down that particular rabbit hole. In the end he had closed the page, hugged his knees to his chest and reminded him that that way only led to misery.

Makoto takes the chair next to him and knocks their knees together, and Haru smiles weakly at him. Makoto glances at what picture he’s on and laughs, no idea the impact it’s had on Haru.

“I don’t remember it exactly, but Sousuke had made a joke about freezing.. A particular piece of anatomy off if we stayed out much later waiting for Rin to get a good shot,” Makoto explains between bites of food. It reminds Haru of his own food, and he eats a little mechanically. Makoto takes a different stack and shuffles through it until he finds what he’s looking for, and passes it to Haru.

This one hits him nearly as hard, but for different reasons. The first faces he recognizes are Makoto’s parents, smiling brightly. His mom’s eyes are a little wet, and when he identifies the little pink bundle in her arms as Mariko he understands. She was impossibly small.

“First night I brought her to meet them,” Makoto says. “Day after I got her,” he finishes quietly.

“How..?” Haru has too many questions that start that way. Makoto seems to understand them all.

“I don’t know how I managed it, I think I was still in shock. I just showed up on their door and introduced her as their granddaughter,” Makoto says. “They recovered pretty quickly, all things considered.”

Haru only nods. He doesn’t know what he could say, but Makoto isn’t looking for anything from him. There’s more of Makoto’s family in another pile, Ran and Ren through the years, sometimes with Makoto, some clearly pictures they’d sent him while he was away. Makoto finishes his food while Haru goes through some Rin must have sent him from Australia. Haru’s half way through his stack and nearly finished with his food when he flips to a picture of a woman. He nearly flips past her without a second thought, but something makes him pause.

She’s beautiful, in the way women can be so beautiful that they’re intimidating, but in this picture she’s smiling and open. Chestnut hair falls softly around her narrow shoulders, and Haru spots delicate silver and crystal decorating her throat. It draws him back to her face, only slightly obscured by red framed glasses. He realizes in a rush that the glasses are what made him pause, because they weren’t hers, they were Makoto’s. He looks closer, and recognizes her nose, _Mariko’s_ nose.

Satomi would have fit in on pages of magazines. He glances at Makoto as he washes his plate and tries to see them together. Makoto’s back flexes under his shirt, and Haru thinks he could probably be in those magazines too. Satomi. He has so many questions about her he doesn’t even know where to begin. He studies her once more, and sets the pile down. He takes his plate and joins Makoto at the sink, passing it to him and picking up a towel without a word. Haru’s had his fill of photographs for the night, and he’s immensely glad he doesn’t have to go back to his apartment tonight.

 

Makoto always notices when Haru goes quiet. Most people wouldn’t even know the difference, but despite using few words, Haru has always spoken volumes with him. It’s one of the reasons they were never big on phone conversations, Haru relied too much on Makoto being able to read his face. He was instinctive, honest, and words only got in his way and choked up what he was really trying to say.

So, ever since he can remember, Makoto’s made it his business to pay attention to Haru’s silences just as much as his words. And ever since he let Haru sift through his photos, Haru has gone still and quiet. Makoto watches him, while he pretends not to. He can tell Haru is working something out. He’s not sure which picture made him like this, so Makoto doesn’t know where to start to help him.

He’d thought sharing would help, that if he leads by being an open book, maybe it would help Haru open up too. He watches Haru mutely dry a coffee mug and wonders if he’s made the wrong move. He grabs the last dish off the table and sneeks a look at which pictures Haru had been looking at, and sees Satomi. Haru must have figured out who she was, since he didn’t ask. So a picture of Satomi, and the group picture from new years, Makoto has a pretty good guess these are what knocked Haru out of his orbit. He turns off the sink, reaches over Haru to help him put the plates away.

Haru blinks up at him, and Makoto gets a flash of something in those eyes before Haru can look away. _Ah,_ Makoto understands now. He sets the plates down, gently takes the cup and towel from Haru’s hands. Haru’s mouth opens in confusion and Makoto leans in swiftly to meet his lips with his own. He pulls back just as quickly, and Haru scrunches his face in a clear, _that wasn’t fair, I wasn’t ready expression._

“I”m exhausted,” Makoto says, and it’s only a half lie. He _is_ tired, but not really _exhausted._ But he knows Haru probably is, and knows Haru is too stubborn to admit it. Haru blinks to recover from Makoto’s peck, and Makoto finds it incredibly endearing.

“Let’s go to bed then,” Haru says. It’s good to know Makoto can still play him like a deck of cards when he needs to. Making it sound like it’s for Makoto’s benefit when it really helps Haru more is an old trick by now. Makoto yawns again for good measure, and Haru pushes him towards the stairs.

They climb up together, and Haru double takes at Mariko asleep in her crib. Makoto rubs the back of his neck. They had finished painting her room, and it’s probably had long enough to air out by now, but when Makoto had brought her up to put her to bed, he hadn’t seen any good reason he couldn’t have one more night with her in his room.

“There’s still some fumes in her room,” he says. Haru raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t call him on it. Makoto goes to check on her, and he doesn’t think it’s worth mentioning that he can see Haru change into pajamas in the mirror leaning against the wall. Makoto had changed when he changed Mariko earlier, so all he has left is to brush his teeth. He pops his head back out of his bathroom and pulls his brush from his mouth at Haru sitting quietly on the edge of his bed.

“Where’s your toothbrush?” he asks, careful not to drool toothpaste all over himself. Haru pinches his lips together.

“Downstairs,” he says. Makoto resists the urge to put a hand on his hip.

“Well go get it, you might as well bring it up here,” he says. He goes back to brushing, and nearly misses the way Haru’s eyes light and face heats. He spits and splashes water on his face. He’s already working on moving Mariko a safe distance from what looks like a bed that’s on the precipice of being broken in, so really, keeping a toothbrush in his bathroom isn’t that big of a deal.

Haru comes back with it, and Makoto happily scoots over for him to get access to the sink. He could swear Haru smiles a little when he tosses his brush in the cup next to Makoto’s, and Makoto reminds himself that it _is_ a big deal, at least to Haru.

He leads him back to the bed, and Haru crawls into it without hesitation. Makoto turns out the lights and follows him. They’d been sleeping with Makoto on his back and Haru tucked up close to him, but after seeing him react to his pictures Makoto decides on a different position, and wraps himself up tight behind him. Haru’s clearly never spooned with someone before based on the amount of wiggling he does to get comfortable, so Makoto kisses the top of his head when he finally settles.

Makoto hopes it’ll be hard for Haru to keep feeling lonely in a position like this, but just to be sure he holds him tight and lets his face rest against the back of Haru’s head. His hair is finally dry, but it still smells like the pool. Makoto wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m here Haru,” he says, drowsiness finally starting to seep in. “Get some sleep.”

Haru takes one of Makoto’s hands and curls his inside it. “Goodnight Makoto,” he says, and Makoto kisses the back of his head again to return it. He’s too far into sleep when Haru adds a _thank you_ to respond, but Haru isn’t looking for one. It’s enough that he’s here.

 

Haru wakes to a sound he can’t place. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, far too content to stay wrapped in Makoto’s arms for as long as he can. He listens, but he’s starting to drift, and knows soon he’ll be back asleep as soundly as Makoto. He hears it again, just before he tips back over the edge. He sighs and cracks his eyes open.

It’s still dark, so it’s either very late or very early. He blinks slowly until his eyes adjust enough to make out shadowy outlines of the room, and drags himself into a sitting position. Immediately, he feels eyes on him and looks over to the crib, where Mariko stands waiting for him. She makes a chirp and Haru finally recognizes what woke him up in the first place. He glances at Makoto’s alarm clock, and it’s barely past four in the morning.

“Macchan, what are you doing up?” he asks groggily. Makoto doesn’t stir, and Haru rubs at his eyes.

“Saba!” She says happily. She holds an arm out to him, and Haru gives up. He stretches and slips out of bed. Mariko bounces excitedly as he walks over to her and loses her balance. She falls back on her pillows and bubbles a laugh at him. Haru leans on the rails and looks down at her fondly.

“Good morning Mariko,” he says, quietly enough to not wake Makoto.

“Goo Saba,” she coos back. Haru smiles and picks her up. There’s a spare blanket thrown over one of the rails on her crib, and Haru drapes it over them both and heads downstairs. He sets her up in her chair with the blanket and looks for something warm he can give her.

The pictures still litter the table, but they don’t bother Haru like they had earlier. Mariko babbles softly to him as he warms up milk for her, and Haru answers idly back to her. Haru might still be haunted by the gaping hole his and Makoto’s past holds, but it’s hard to let it sink it’s teeth in when he’s needed and wanted by his favorite two Tachibanas. He helps her with her sippy cup, and she holds onto his hands around the cup with her grubby fingers. He sits with her and her chatter until she starts to slow down and droop.

When he picks her up again, she snuggles down against his neck. He sways just slightly, the strangest urge to hum to her coming over him. Soon, her eyes close and her breathing evens out. He brushes her hair back with his free hand. She’s soft and snug, but even Haru knows that’s not the only reason his chest feels so warm.

He takes her back upstairs, but props her up on a pillow between him and Makoto on the bed instead of returning her to her crib. He plays with her hair and watches her, feeling himself start to drift now that he’s back under the blankets.

He sleeps lightly, aware anytime Mariko moves too much or makes a sound. He wakes easily when she wakes and starts crawling on his head a couple hours later. He gently pushes her off and back to her pillow, but it’s a lost cause. She’s wide awake now. He turns her towards her dad and watches as she crawls on him just as carelessly, one fat hand nearly slipping into Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto’s face scrunches as he wakes up to Mariko trying to pull herself up by his ear. Haru doesn’t do anything to stop her, satisfied to watch Makoto unguarded as he wakes. Makoto yawns and Mariko uses his jaw as a foothold, and Makoto grabs her and pretends to chew. She screams and falls back on the bed, but rights herself and charges right back at him. Makoto shoots Haru a hurt look.

“You’re going to just let this happen?” he says with a pout. Haru pulls the blanket up over enough of his face to hide his smile.

“Yep,” he says, and Makoto rumbles into a laugh. He holds Mariko back with a hand and sits up. He yawns and runs a hand through his impossible bed hair, and Haru is glad his blanket muffles his snort.

Makoto catches him looking and leans over Mariko to kiss his forehead. Then ruins the sweetness by screwing up Haru’s hair with both hands. Haru frowns and remembers Makoto can’t see it. Makoto gets up and stretches and Haru watches him, and appreciating Makoto’s recent taste in sleeping clothes. They were significantly tighter and thinner than what he’d wear back in high school.

“If you stop staring at me, we can go downstairs and have breakfast,” Makoto suggests. Haru seriously considers it. Mariko rolls over and turns on Haru, and Haru knows there’s no way he could convince her to conveniently take a nap or something and give them some privacy.

“I’ll cook,” he says. He thinks it could be nice, to get used to waking up to Makoto’s smiles.

 

When Makoto finally drives him home in the afternoon, Haru is dreading going back upstairs to his apartment so much that he doesn’t notice some of Makoto’s obvious tells. His fingers, for instance, haven’t stopped tapping on the steering wheel the entire trip, and not once have they aligned with the beat on the radio.

Haru tries to think about the work he should do; he’s done more laundry for Makoto’s house than he has for himself over the last few months, and he does have a couple pieces he should finish. They pull into the parking lot and he tells himself he needs the time at his own place, even though he can’t convince himself that he wants it.

Makoto puts the old truck in park, and neither of them make an attempt to part. Makoto’s fingers keep tapping, and in the silence after he cuts the engine, Haru finally notices.

“Makoto?” he says, and Makoto’s hand goes still.

“Sorry it’s just. Uh, well,” Makoto runs a hand through his hair until his palm rests against the back of his neck. Haru’s actually a little worried now. Makoto seems to steel himself, and turns to face him across the bench seat.

“Haru, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Makoto says in a sudden seriousness. Haru holds his breath and waits for the bomb to drop.

 

The next morning, Haru stands in the middle of his apartment, a mixture of frustration and feeling lost starting to overwhelm him. He’s pulled every single item of clothing he owns out of the closet, drawers, in a few occasions shopping bags that got shoved into corners and forgotten about. He’s done all his laundry, he’s pulled every missing sock from under his bed.

Now his apartment looks like the aftermath of a laundromat hurricane, and Haru doesn’t understand how he can have so many clothes while still having absolutely nothing to wear. It’s all garbage. Except the monster t shirts. And the fish socks. And the jellyfish boxers. Haru sighs. So it wasn’t all garbage, but it definitely wasn’t _date with Makoto_ worthy either.

 

“Haru, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Makoto says in a sudden seriousness, and Haru holds his breath while he waits for the bomb to drop.

“Would you go on a date with me?” Now it’s Makoto’s turn to hold his breath while Haru’s mind tries to catch up with him. He opens his mouth to speak, and Makoto beats him to it when nothing comes out.

“A _real_ date, just the two of us,” Makoto clarifies. Haru feels like bees are filling his chest, buzzing back and forth too quickly for him to keep up. He closes his mouth to keep them in.

“We can go out somewhere, get dinner, that whole thing,” he’s talking faster now, but Haru is still busy trying to put his words together and send them to his mouth, so he lets Makoto go on.

“If you want, that is-”

“Mako-”

“We don’t have to! I mean I’d like to, but-”

“Me too.” Makoto stops abruptly, his hand hovering in midair where he had been waving it.

“Sorry?” Haru looks anywhere but at his face.

“I’d like that too,” he says quietly. For a frightening second, there’s silence. Then Makoto exhales and Haru looks back just in time for Makoto to lean across the empty space between them and kiss him.

 

Haru had been light-headed when he’d locked the door behind him, and kept catching himself half-smiling all night. It wasn’t until the day of that he’d thought to get nervous about it. He’s got a time and place to meet Makoto, but Makoto had told him to leave the rest to him and hadn’t given him any further information. It was a safe bet to assume they’d get something to eat at some point, but Haru had no idea what else Makoto has in store for him.

The picture of Satomi surfaces in his mind, and he knows just from that that she wasn’t the type of woman who would be satisfied staying in with take out. If Makoto had dated her, he probably had a few tricks up his sleeve. He thinks about Tatsumi, how intense his energy had been even when Haru had only talked to him briefly. If Makoto had dated _him,_ then he _definitely_ had a few tricks up his sleeve.

That’s when he had decided to start with the basics, and pick out something to wear. Fast forward to now and Haru is begrudgingly ready to admit defeat. He digs out his phone and dials, bracing himself for what he has to do next.  

"Rin," Haru says it as a greeting when Rin answers the phone, but doesn't offer anything else when Rin mirrors it suspiciously. He chews the rough part of his lip, making a mental note to buy some chapstick before he sees Makoto again.

"Haru? Are you there or are you spacing out? Haru?" Rin already sounds annoyed, but it can't be helped. Haru wades his way through his laundry for his couch and sits on top of several pairs of underwear.

“I give up,” Haru mutters.

“What? Speak up,” Rin says. Haru sinks into his clothes.

“I said I give up,” Haru says, slowly for Rin’s benefit. “I think I’m in over my head.” There’s a silence long enough for Haru to wonder if Rin’s hung up on him, and then Rin sighs loudly on the other side.

“Who am I burying?” he says and Haru blinks. Rin goes on before Haru can ask.

“You’re _always_ in over your idiot head, but if you’re admitting it to me then it’s gotta be something big, right? So what poor sap did you finally snap on?”

“Rin, that’s. That’s not what… We’re not burying anyone?” Haru tries. Rin snorts.

“Well then, it can’t be _that_ bad,” he says with a laugh.

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Depends. Did it work?” Haru considers hanging up, but he pulls a wad of- _space fish?_ \- themed underwear from out from under a leg and remembers why he called in the first place.

“So? What do you need me to kick your ass on?” Haru groans. The space fish were kind of cute, and Makoto liked cute things. Right?

“What do you think of space fish?” He says and immediately regrets it. Maybe his boxer-sofa would take pity on him and swallow him whole.

“Haru.. I know I say this a lot, but you really are weird as hell.” Haru groans. “Do you mind translating that into one of the languages I _actually_ speak?”

“I need new clothes.” Haru says, a little irritated he has to spell it out. Makoto would have understood. Rin makes a sound of surprise and Haru rolls his eyes.

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?” Rin sounds _giddy_ and Haru is at his limit. “I’ll be there in half an hour so prepare yourself!” Rin hangs up before Haru can answer and Haru wonders just how deep a grave he’s dug himself this time.

 

Haru’s only just gotten most of his clothes stashed back away by the time Rin knocks on his door looking smug. Haru closes his door behind him before Rin can peek inside.

“What’s with that face?” he asks, locking the door and tugging on the handle to check it. Rin throws an arm over his shoulders and Haru automatically tries to brush him off.

“I knew it was only a matter of time until you recognized my superior fashion sense,” Rin grins.

“Shut up,” Haru says, because really, that was not what was happening right now. Haru heads down the stairs without turning back, knowing Rin would bound down after him to catch up.

He does catch up with him, annoyingly quickly, and then he gets in front and acts like he’s the one in charge. Haru has to bite his lip and remind himself that in a way, Rin sort of is. Rin grins back at him, loving every second of Haru’s discomfort, and Haru prays he lives through the experience he’s about to subject himself to.

“So, my shabbiest of friends, what kind of clothes are you looking for?” Rin asks when they make it to the shopping center and Haru has the sudden epiphany that _of course_ Rin is going to ask why Haru needs new clothes. He considers bolting back to the train and trying to forget the whole thing, but Rin waits expectantly and Haru remembers that Rin was probably faster than him anyway.

“Just normal clothes,” he says warily. Rin laughs.

“That explains why you need someone else to help,” he says. Haru elbows him. Rin smiles brightly at the employee who greets them in the first store, already enjoying himself. Haru drifts between racks idly, really not sure where to even begin.

“Okay really, what are we looking for,” Rin asks. He’s flipping through shirts, and Haru chews his lip. He hasn’t told anyone about him and Makoto. Mai seems to have it figured out, but he hasn’t confirmed it to her either. Still, Rin was the first, and only, person he told when he was conflicted about it, and he’s been nothing but supportive.

“I’m going on a date,” he says. Rin gapes and even Haru is a little surprised at his own boldness.

“With Makoto?” Rin asks. Haru nods and Rin lights up.

“That’s great! Haru, that’s really great!” Rin looks like he might try and hug him, and Haru relaxes a little. Rin was happy for him. Haru had made a good choice in confiding in him. Haru looks away, more relieved than he wants to admit.

“Did you kiss yet?” Rin leans in and asks lowly, eager to be a part of the conspiracy. Haru pinches his lips.

“What do you think?” he asks. Rin grins widely.

“You did, you _totally_ did, I knew it,” he says. He’s only getting more excited.

“We’re in the wrong store,” he says suddenly. Haru blinks back at him.

“This is way too casual, you’d look pathetic next to Makoto if he’s in _game on_ mode,” Rin says, clucking his tongue. He leads Haru out, leaving him to wonder exactly just what _that_ means. Rin picks a different store, and wastes no time going straight to the back. Some of the clothes Rin shoves into Haru’s arms cost more for a single piece than some entire outfits he owns, but Rin pays no mind. Haru supposes it’ll even out since he hasn’t gone clothes shopping in nearly a year anyway. When Haru complains about the weight, Rin tsks and shoves him into a fitting room. Haru tries not to be daunted by the small mountain of clothes Rin wants him to go through. He sighs and gets started.

Rin makes him parade out in every outfit, and he’s absolutely demanding. Half of the time Haru opens his door, Rin barges in to tweak his clothes, or tells him to try it with the last shirt, those other slacks. Haru manages to cling to his patience only because he knows Rin is only trying to help, but if he had come alone he probably would have picked the first things that fit and been done with it.

Rin makes his selections, and Haru agrees, thinking it’s over. He’s wrong. Rin pushes him through another set of doors and the whole process repeats itself. Rin throws another piece of clothing on Haru’s pile and Haru takes a deep breath. He thinks about swimming with Mariko and Makoto, about how Makoto had rolled over in the water on his back and let Mariko sit on his chest as he swam her around.

“You’re smiling again,” Rin says, amused. Haru frowns at him.

“Was not.” Rin knocks their shoulders together, not buying it for a second.

“You and Makoto always seemed like a good fit, I’m not surprised it’s working out for you,” he says. Rin’s grin doesn’t leave, but it wilts a little even as he picks up a dress shirt and holds it next to Haru’s face, disagrees with it and returns it.

“I wish it was that easy for the rest of us,” he says, more to himself than Haru. Haru isn’t sure what to say to that, but he gets the feeling he should say _something._

“Yamazaki?” Haru tries. From what he’s seen, Rin and Yamazaki seem as close and he and Makoto had been back in high school. And, something about how Yamazaki acted nagged at him. Rin’s hands slow on the clothes racks, his eyes going soft and fond even though the shirt he’s paused on is hideous.

“Yeah,” he says. He laughs, but it’s hollow. “Yeah I can see how you’d think that.” Rin hasn’t gone back to browsing, so Haru shifts his bundle of clothes and waits for him to continue.

“It’s really easy with him, he probably knows me better than I do,” Rin says, smiling a little sadly as he rolls it around in his head. “That’d be great, that’d be fucking perfect except the guy isn’t really into relationships that last longer than a night.”

Rin picks a different shirt, shoves it back on the rack immediately when he spots a paisley print on only one sleeve. Haru is silently grateful Rin didn’t think it was some sort of high end modern look, because with Rin, Haru is never sure.

“I mean, can you even picture it? Me and Sousuke, what, picking out curtains? Arguing over bedding?” Rin laughs. Sadly, Haru thinks he can. He and Makoto used to do stuff like that long before they were whatever they were now, and he never thought anything of it.

“You’re already living with him,” Haru points out. Rin shoots him a sharp look.

“He lets me crash with him the couple months a year I’m in Japan, I don’t _live with him,”_ he says. Haru wisely doesn’t comment. “His flat is really too big for one person anyway, I’m doing _him_ a favor.” Haru lets him mutter.

“I mean really, me and Sousuke. Could you _imagine?”_ Rin laughs again, a little louder than was needed. Haru thinks about the way Yamazaki’s eyes had gone warm and soft at the same time when Rin passed out on his lap on Makoto’s birthday, and wonders if there’s more to it than either of them are letting on. There was something about the way Yamazaki acted, swinging from threatening Haru to being so gentle with Rin. Haru couldn’t put his finger on it, but his instinct is that it’s complicated.

Rin’s laughter subsides as quickly as it came, leaving Rin flipping through the next rack in quick jerky movements, clearly agitated. Haru feels a little remorseful. He had only wanted to distract Rin from asking more questions about him and Makoto, not upset him about his own situation. Haru can practically see the dark clouds gathering above him.

He spots a knitted cardigan on the display behind Rin and takes a chance. He points it out to Rin and offers to try it on. Rin smiles at him and adds it to the pile. It’s enough to get him to fall back into his self-proclaimed fashion expert mode, and the rest of that store and the next go smoothly enough. Haru ends up with a couple nicer outfits, since Rin insists that if Makoto asked him out once he can expect it to happen again. Haru doesn’t tell him how the idea of Makoto asking him on dates regularly sends a little thrill down his back, but he does offer to buy lunch to thank him for his help.

Rin throws an arm over his shoulder all the way from lunch back to the train station where they part, and for the first time in a long time, Haru doesn’t mind it. He’d missed _friends,_ he’s learning, even the annoying ones. Haru’s train comes first, and Rin waves obnoxiously and blows him a kiss. Haru jerks and ducks behind his shopping bags, pretending he doesn’t know him until the train starts to move. He peeks over his bags, and Rin is holding onto his gut while he laughs. Sometimes, Haru thinks he missed the annoying ones most of all, and then wonders what was wrong with him.

 

Haru gets to the train station they agreed to meet at a couple minutes early, but he really couldn’t stand to hang out in his apartment any longer than he already had. The suspense was killing him. He’d even tried slicking his hair back out of his face, decided he looked ridiculous and washed it all out.

He _had_ worn his new clothes though. Rin had chosen well, and even with his hair back to normal, when Haru had taken stock of himself in the mirror he was a little impressed. He didn’t look so scrawny or haunted like he has in recent years. Instead of black that sometimes made him gaunt and stark, Rin had picked shades of blue. The darkest pieces were deep, inky navy, so dark you could only tell it from black under direct light. A subtle detail, but using dark blue instead of black changes his whole appearance, and he knows he has Rin to thank.

He checks his watch and looks around, but he was early. Makoto would probably be a few minutes late anyway; he was always getting caught up in something last minute. He might as well sit and wait, so he heads out the doors to find a bench. It’s still early in the afternoon, but Haru’s breath fogs as soon as he’s outside. It was a small miracle it wasn’t raining, but Haru supposes that won’t matter once they get wherever Makoto was taking him.

There’s only one bench outside the station, and as Haru’s luck would have it, it was occupied. More or less. There’s a broad back to him, the man standing in front of the bench, hands occupied in front of him. Haru wouldn’t have paid him any mind except that he was in Haru’s way, and had to be nearly as tall as Makoto.

Haru does a double take. Brown hair, tall, broad shoulders. Same station, about the same time. It’s impossible it’s a coincidence. He takes in the details, the way the coat seems tailored to him, highlighting the V shape his back makes into his hips. Haru can see the shine on his buffed leather shoes from where he stands. Something makes him turn so Haru can see his profile, and it’s definitely Makoto.

Haru feels warm despite the cold, and he calls out Makoto’s name just to watch his face light up. Makoto doesn’t disappoint, and Haru runs a step to join him when he turns around and faces him. Makoto raises a leather gloved hand and smooths Haru’s hair from the wind, and Haru wonders when Makoto got so gentlemanly. _He_ doesn’t look ridiculous with his hair styled back.

He’s wearing a short fawn colored herringbone trench, and now that Haru sees it up close he’s sure it’s been tailored for him. Haru hopes it was expensive, because the silhouette it gives Makoto should be _illegal._ He’s got a cool grey muffler folded neatly around his neck, and Haru is only a little disappointed he can’t see more of what Makoto was wearing. Makoto smiles down at him, and Haru catches the glint of the studs in his ears making a return. He thinks about how maybe, Makoto spent as much time worrying about getting ready for their date as he had and has to look away before he does something impulsive.

“Sorry Haru, our plans changed a little bit,” Makoto says first, his eyebrows drawing together and creasing his forehead. Haru frowns at him.

“What does that mean?” Clearly, the date wasn’t cancelled, or Makoto wouldn’t be so resplendent waiting for him like this. It keeps Haru from worrying too much. “I didn’t know the plan anyway,” he points out. Makoto smiles at him, face smoothing back out.

“I guess that’s true,” he says. “I was going to drive us up on my bike, but well. We’re going to have to get a cab.” It’s Haru’s turn to wrinkle his face.

“Why? Where are we going anyway?” Makoto only smiles at him.

“I’ll let _her_ answer the first one,” he says, and takes a step back. Haru looks from Makoto’s face to the bench and his mouth falls open.

“Saba!” Mariko giggles and reaches out to him. Haru lets her take one of his hands, and looks back at Makoto. Makoto claps his hands in front of him.

“Sorry! I know I said just the two of us, and I had someone lined up to watch her, honest! But then her sister-in-law dumped _her_ kids on her too and I told her not to worry about Macchan on top of that and-” Makoto takes a deep breath and cracks one squeezed eye open to peek at Haru. Haru’s already holding Mariko, and she’s amusing herself by stretching until the top of her fuzzy beanie covered head hits Haru’s chin and laughing, then doing it all over again.

“You aren’t mad?” Makoto asks. Haru glares at him.

“Why would I be?” He says, a little sharply. Makoto blinks, then laughs and relaxes. “Was that all?” he asks. He’d like to go for another bike ride, but Mariko wasn’t a bad consolation prize by far. He’d pick her and a cab ride any day.

“Yeah. I guess that was pretty much it,” Makoto says, realizing it too.

“Shall we?” Makoto smiles. Haru nods back. He already knows he’ll follow him wherever Makoto takes him. He just has to keep working on convincing himself that’s okay.

Makoto gets them a cab and gives the driver an address Haru doesn’t recognize. They head west, and Haru has no idea where they’re going until he sees signs for Koyama lake. It wouldn’t surprise him if Makoto took him to a lake, but if they were going to water he would have liked a warning. He looks at Mariko bundled up in her own coat and muffler combination and figures Makoto probably wouldn’t let him swim in a lake this late in the year anyway.

The driver turns off the main road, and they head away from the lake. They’re surrounded by forest, and gaining altitude. Haru’s lost again. Makoto rides next to him in the backseat easily, comfortably talking to him or Mariko, and occasionally the driver. Haru feels like he’s on the edge of his seat.

Finally they turn and head through gates up a private driveway, and Haru’s eyes blow wide at the house they pull up in front of. _House_ was inadequate. Makoto had taken him to a full blown mansion. Makoto looks amused at his reaction, but doesn’t offer an explanation as he thanks the driver and pays him. Haru climbs out with Mariko in mute amazement. Pristine white walls and classical European architecture, surrounded by impeccably manicured gardens, Haru can hardly believe they’re still in Japan.

“I was pretty floored the first time I came here too,” Makoto confides. Haru closes his mouth and looks to him.

“Who’s house is this? Are we even allowed to be here?” He asks. He doesn’t remember Makoto knowing anyone that could live somewhere like this. Makoto laughs.

“Actually, no one lives here anymore. It used to be some celebrity’s vacation home, but now it’s owned locally. They rent it out for events and weddings, but what we’re here for is behind the main house.” Makoto leads him up the wide stone steps to the open double doors, and Haru sticks close. He’s immensely glad he’s wearing something respectable; he gets the feeling if he showed up dressed in his usual clothes some stuffy butler would kick him out.

There’s a large foyer, but a desk with a receptionist makes it clear that what Makoto said was true. Makoto pulls out a card from his wallet and passes it over. Haru peeks around what parts of the interior he can see while she taps away on her computer.

“You’re all set, Kobayashi-san. Do you know the way or would you like a guide?” she asks pleasantly. Haru spins back to look at him, but Makoto doesn’t flinch as he takes his card back.

“I’ve been here before, thank you,” he says. She waves him through and Haru follows after him.

“Kobayashi-san?” he asks, frowning at him. Makoto keeps walking until they’re out of the receptionist’s hearing, then grins.

“Tatsumi has an annual pass,” he says. Haru feels the corners of his lips tugging up.

“You just lied to her?” he asks, amazed. Makoto snorts.

“A tiny, _tiny_ white lie. It’s paid for one way or another, so no harm done,” he says. Haru nudges him.

“Identity theft is a _crime,_ Makoto,” he says. “I didn’t know I was going somewhere with a criminal.”

Makoto chokes on a laugh and shoves Haru in front of him. Haru doesn't know where it comes from, but he's getting excited now. Whatever Makoto has planned just keeps surprising him, and he kind of can't wait for whatever is next.

Makoto pushes a door open and holds it open for Haru to duck through, and Haru finds himself back outside. The back patio sprawls around them, and they're just high enough for Haru to see what they're here for.

“A labyrinth?” he asks. Makoto smiles triumphantly next to him. Haru can't see the entirety of it, but a handsomely groomed hedge maze makes up the center of the back garden, little lighted stone path leading to opposite ends of it. Haru can hear the distant sound of voices and knows they aren't the only ones here for it.

“The previous owner fell in love with a hedge maze while they were on a trip in Paris, came home and spent years making their own,” Makoto explains. Mariko tugs on his coat and Haru hands her over. “Come on.”

Haru follows him down the path, rightfully impressed with the place. The hedges were healthy and dense, towering even over Makoto. It would truly be a maze once they were inside. They still had some daylight left, but not much of it. Haru wonders if he should have brought a flashlight.

They stop in front of an arched entry, but when Haru goes to take a step forward, Makoto doesn't step with him.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asks. Makoto shakes his head.

“Nope. My entrance is down on the other corner, we’ll both go in and meet up somewhere in the middle.” Makoto doesn’t seem bothered by it, but immediately Haru gets uncomfortable. He glances back inside the maze. The paths are wide and inviting, but Haru still chews his lip thinking about heading in alone. He’s not really listening as Makoto explains that it’s more fun that way, and that it’s designed to be easy to find each other pretty early on. Instead, he’s lamenting that he’d just given Mariko back to him.

“I’ll find you inside,” Makoto says, and with one last smile he departs. Haru watches his back as he walks away, not once looking back. He looks back down the entry. That was just like Makoto, to put so much faith in Haru when Haru doesn’t even know where to begin. When he looks back, Makoto is gone.

Haru has a choice, Haru always has a choice. He could run after Makoto, catch up with him and stubbornly enter together with him. Makoto might pout a little or poke fun, but he wouldn’t turn Haru away. He wouldn’t turn him away, but Haru would still feel the guilt at ruining a part of Makoto’s plans, especially since he’s put so much thought into them.

Haru’s other option is to swallow his doubt, and try and put as much faith in Makoto as he had in Haru. Haru sighs and steps forward. Makoto was worth the effort, always. Nothing happens as he passes under the arch, so he picks a direction and starts walking.

It’s a surreal experience to Haru, surrounded on all sides by hedges as he wanders almost aimlessly. He can still hear voices from time to time, muffled and filtered through the branches, but he doesn’t run into anyone. He isn’t far from his entrance when he rounds a corner and is met with the first surprise of the maze. The hedge wall bows out to make room for a statue of lovers embracing, almost as if in the middle of a dance. It was far from indecent, but Haru still feels himself getting a little embarrassed looking at them. The moment between bronze women seems so intimate.

He hasn’t done anything more than what he and Makoto had done the day after his birthday, but Haru would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. He thought about it more than he thought he would, more than he thought possible. Makoto’s velvet voice in his ear, his hands on the most private places that no one besides Haru himself had ever touched- It was thoughts like that that kept Haru up at night and wanting.

He moves on, getting a little ansty to find Makoto despite the cheery flowers lining his path. The corner leads to a dead end and Haru has to backtrack and try a different way. This new path has a streak of smooth river stones swirled decoratively down the length of it. The next statue he comes across is a woman alone, looking around lost. Haru can recognize her from the statue of the lovers, and gets a bad feeling. They had looked so happy in the first statue, but now that she was alone she looked so lonely. He chews on his lip and hopes it isn’t some sort of bad omen.

Haru doesn’t believe in that sort of thing, but he picks up his pace anyway. The beauty of the hidden gardens goes wasted on him. His mind is starting to spin out, left to its own devices and focusing on all the wrong places. Makoto had hesitated before calling him a friend. Makoto had been here before, likely with Tatsumi. Pictures of a lifetime without Haru probably still cover Makoto’s kitchen table.

There’s a moment of clarity where Mariko’s laugh rings as clear as a bell, and Haru feels every hair on his body stand on end. He has the sudden and completely overwhelming need to find them, to be with Makoto. He heads towards Mariko’s voice and hits another dead end, rose bush climbing the far wall a beautiful defeat he has no time for.

He turns on his heel. He swears he can hear Makoto’s quiet laughter now, and he aches. He picks a different path and starts to jog. He hits another dead end and feels panic starting to claw its way up the back of his spine. He can’t hear them anymore. He’s alone again.

He _can’t_ be alone again. He runs.

He finds a door halfway back the way he’d come that he hadn’t noticed the first time, and he doesn’t have time to take in the heavy oak and stained glass it’s made of before he’s yanking it open and throwing himself through it. A branch snags at him and he rips himself free.

_‘43 missed calls’ Haru closes his phone. Its been four days since he sent Makoto back to Tokyo without him, and lied about catching a later train. Makoto hasn’t stopped calling, sounding more and more desperate with each call. Haru stopped picking up after the second day. His phone lights up to tell him about another voicemail. Haru doesn’t know how much longer he can take this._

Haru runs harder, feet pounding the soft grassy path. He was stupid, he was so stupid for pushing Makoto away all those years. He sucks in air and promises himself and Makoto he won’t ever be so stupid again.

He slips on a loose stone and falls, barely managing to catch himself on his hands.

_“We’re selling the house.” The way Haru’s father says it leaves no room for discussion. Haru sets his spoon down with a clang. His father doesn’t even look up. Never any spare time for his son._

_“It’s time you moved out anyway.” Haru stands abruptly and takes his bowl to the sink. The next morning it’s still there, and his father is gone again. Haru wishes he’d been strong enough to tell him this was his grandmother’s house, and all that he had._

_The house is sold within the year, and Haru has nothing left of himself._

He struggles to his feet and keeps running. He has to find them. It’s all he’d ever needed, to find Makoto. He could be again, exist again, but only if he made it back to Makoto’s side.

_He’d come to Makoto’s house so many times that he’d memorized the address. He’s not sure why he keeps taking Rin’s note with him. Maybe he’s hoping it will someday give him the courage to actually head up the driveway and knock on the door. Haru sighs and shoves the address back in his pocket. Not today, it seems._

He’s starting to think he might actually lose it and break down, but he flies around the next corner and comes to an abrupt halt at a familiar back. He feels weak, and before he can announce himself he leans forward on his knees and tries to catch his breath. They were here, whole and safe, as perfect as when they’d split from him. Haru pants and watches from under his hair as Makoto holds Mariko up so she can splash her hands in the fountain they’d stopped in front of.

Haru feels like he could collapse from the relief. He groans internally, but Makoto snaps around at him, and Haru can’t even care that he must have made such an embarrassing sound out loud.

“You found me,” Makoto says, face glowing with a smile. Haru feels himself returning it.

He would have knocked on that door eventually.

Makoto holds a hand out to him, all Haru has to do it take it. He knows it must be obvious that he was running to find him, but he can’t help that now. He stands up straight and wipes his hands together to clean off some of the remaining dirt from catching himself. He tugs his hair back down into place as he walks up and takes Makoto’s hand. Haru can feel the warmth radiating out from him even through his gloves.

Mariko greets him with her usual cheerfulness, and Haru straightens her hat. Mariko tugs his hand towards the fountain and Haru takes a second to actually look at it.

“It’s beautiful,” Haru agrees. Mariko beams up at him. It really was beautiful, a giant marble tribute, crested with swans. Makoto squeezes his hand and gets his attention.

“It’s great, but that’s not what I brought you here for,” Makoto says. Haru tilts his head but Makoto only keeps smiling.

“Come on, there’s something I want to show you,” he says. He doesn’t let go of Haru’s hand as he gently leads him away. Haru likes the fountain, but nowhere near as much as he likes his Tachibanas. He follows freely.

Makoto walks confidently, clear that the maze is an old friend to him, and Haru is content to follow along and let Makoto point out the hidden features. When they find the other woman from the lovers statue Haru had first found, Makoto explains they were supposed to be viewed in a certain order, an order Haru had gotten backwards. They leave the first woman, and Haru feels better knowing her fate is a happy one.

Haru enjoys the walk now, but he keeps getting distracted by the feeling of Makoto’s hand around his. It’s not unfamiliar, Makoto still pulls him out of the pool whenever they go swimming, but the prolonged contact is. It’s different, it’s nice. It’s warm and strong, just like Makoto.They pass tiny flower gardens, fruit bearing trees, more gates with beautiful glass panels inlaid into them, even another fountain, but Makoto keeps moving after giving Haru a chance to view them.

“I saved the best for last,” he promises. Haru believes him.

They come to a wide area where several paths converge, and lights flicker to life all around them. Haru hadn’t noticed in his haste earlier, but now that they’re lit up, he can see that the tops of the hedge walls are lined in net lighting. Each tiny bulb glows warmly, casting a soft yellow light down on them. Mariko watches in quiet awe, and Haru feels it too. Makoto directs his eyes away from the hedges, and Haru’s breath catches.

Makoto had indeed saved the best for last. They’ve reached the back wall of the maze, and the middle of it is dominated by a huge wooden gazebo with enough lights strung across it to make it look like it was straight out of a fairy tale. Haru opens his mouth and closes it. Makoto strokes his wrist with his thumb where their hands are still joined, and together they climb the steps to the inside.

It’s even more beautiful up close, the main beams boast an extensive amount of detailed carvings, with thick curtains bundled around the corner posts, and Haru can see how you could let them loose for even more privacy. Makoto walks him to the back where some curtains still hang down. He lets go of Haru’s hand and pulls one aside, and Haru’s eyes light up.

They weren’t very high up from sea level, all things considered, but Haru had hardly strayed from his coastal habitat in his entire life. Makoto ties the first curtain back and moves the second, and Haru has a breathtaking view of lake Koyama nestled along the foothills below them. It’s still twilight but the city is already glittering to life off to the side of it, and as they stand there lights flick on all around the edge of the lake, from the university on its edge to smaller family homes and even boats on the lake itself.

The lights dance on the dark water, and it takes Haru another long moment before he can look away from it. Makoto’s been silent while Haru takes the view in, and when Haru turns to him, he’s met with twin sets of green eyes watching him. It makes Haru huff out a laugh, and he moves to cover it quickly.

“I’ve wanted to show you this for a long time,” Makoto says a little sheepishly. Quickly and without hesitation, Haru closes the distance between them and kisses him. Makoto’s wearing a faint cologne, and it makes Haru a little light-headed.  He pulls back and Makoto’s eyes burn into his. Haru leans in to kiss him again, but grubby little hands push him back.

 _“Saba,”_ Mariko complains from her perch in Makoto’s arm, and Haru realizes he must have smooshed her just a little to kiss Makoto. He leans down and kisses the top of her head instead. Mariko giggles and pulls on his face, and he knows he’s forgiven. He peeks back up to Makoto and catches him biting his lip.

“What?” Makoto looks conflicted.

“Nothing. I really want to kiss you again, but if I do we’ll miss our dinner reservations,” Makoto says. He looks like he’s actually considering it. Haru is tempted, but after all the fuss he’s gone through for his date, he wants the proper experience.

“We should go,” Haru says, and Makoto slumps a little but nods. He takes Haru’s hand again and leads him towards the exit. They pass the statue of the lovers one last time, and Haru sends them his silent thanks.

 

Makoto was skeptical, to say the least, the first time he’d seen the hedge maze. Tatsumi was as overly optimistic about it as Sousuke was dreading it. Makoto probably wouldn’t have picked trekking out to the middle of nowhere to voluntarily try and get lost as a way to spend his weekend, but Tatsumi rarely let them down when he made plans.

“We could always drink, if you think it’d be more fun that way,” Tatsumi reminds him from his right.

 _“Now_ you tell me,” Sousuke groans from his left. Tatsumi grins around Makoto at him.

“Thousand yen says Sousuke gets lost in the first ten minutes,” he says. Makoto tries not to laugh and fails.

“You’re on, the place isn’t even that big,” Sousuke counters.

An hour later and Makoto is swaying between laughing so hard his sides hurt, and running for his life every time he runs into Sousuke. Tatsumi was right, this was much more fun than he’d imagined. They all entered separately, and while Tatsumi and Makoto had found each other relatively easily, they hadn’t even _seen_ Sousuke for the first twenty minutes.

When they finally spotted him, he was frustrated and relieved at the same time. He passed Tatsumi a bank note and demanded an exit, but Tatsumi had looked at Makoto and grinned. He smacked Sousuke’s arm, yelled _tag,_ and fled. Sousuke had gaped after him for a solid second before turning his attention to Makoto. Makoto only had an instant to decide, and his legs took him away before his conscious could make the call.

He stops for a second to catch his breath in the gazebo in the back, sitting heavily on one of the pillowed benches. He hears Sousuke bellow Tatsumi’s name from somewhere on the other side of the maze and pants out another weak bout of laughter. He leans back and closes his eyes, enjoying the breeze.

When he lets his head fall back down and his eyes open, he can see a sliver of something blue between the curtains on the far side of the gazebo. He’s sure he has more time before Sousuke finds him, so he gets up and peeks between the panels of fabric.

The lake below is beautiful in the full summer sun, sparkling and alive. Makoto’s mouth hangs open at the view, and after a second just to take it in, he leans on the railing to watch.

 _I bet Haru would love this._ The thought comes unbidden and catches him completely off guard. His heart skips and bleeds. He hasn’t really thought about Haru in years. Hasn’t let himself think about Haru for more than a passing moment in years. It shocks him how easy the thought comes now. Instead of the hurt and distress and loss that usually comes with even the briefest reminder of his best and no longer friend, Makoto watches the blue water and feels calm. He’s not angry, and he realizes he probably hasn’t been in a long time.

For the first time in forever, he lets himself think about Haru. It doesn’t pierce and shred him like it used to. Makoto’s grown. He’s wiser, and when he thinks about Haru now he just hopes he’s okay. Tatsumi and Sousuke’s voices get louder, but Makoto doesn’t turn from his view.

“Come on Sousuke, hold my hand so you don’t get lost again,” Tatsumi teases.

“What am I, a grade schooler? Don’t answer that,” Sousuke shoots back. Tatsumi snorts and Makoto hears them climbing the steps behind him. Tatsumi whistles at the view and leans on the railing with Makoto, shoving his shoulders up against him.

“What’s wrong Makoto? You look like you’re a hundred kilometers away.” Tatsumi says it lightly, but Makoto knows he’s worried.

“Yeah, I- It’s strange, I’ve never been here before, but its making me kind of homesick,” Makoto answers a little more honestly than necessary. But this is Tatsumi and Sousuke, they would have seen straight through him if he had tried to hide it. They share a look behind his back, and the next thing Makoto knows, they each have one of his arms and they’re marching him towards the exit.

Makoto laughs and falls back in with them easily, but he throws one last look over his shoulder. _Let him be happy, where ever he is_ , he thinks, and releases the thought to the water.

 

The restaurant Makoto takes him to is right on the edge of the ocean, and somewhere Haru’s never been. It’s a week night, so it’s not particularly busy, and Makoto’s reservation gets them a table with a window and a view. The staff seems a little distressed at Makoto showing up with a baby, but he assures them he doesn’t need a high chair, and her smile wins them over.

They check their coats and Haru can’t look at Makoto directly. He has a hard enough time stealing glances at him as he helps Mariko out of her puffy coat. Makoto’s illegal coat should have been enough warning, but Haru will never get used to how good Makoto cleans up. He’s too used to Makoto wearing over-sized sweaters and stained pants with worn out boots. Haru understands what Rin had meant now, about Makoto’s ‘game on’ mode.

Haru wouldn’t have stood a chance on his own. Makoto straightens up, the silver suit vest narrowing his waist and framing his torso. He had a black dress shirt on underneath, first few buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Dark washed jeans that clung to his legs finished it out along with a couple corded leather bracelets, and Haru envied how easily Makoto seems to transition from the blundering puppy he knows to _this._

Makoto catches his attention and smiles, and Haru fears for his life. It’s surely being shortened every time Makoto looks at him like that. He looks at Mariko when he can’t take it anymore, and feels himself melting in a softer way. Makoto had spent as much attention to detail with his daughter as he had with himself, she was wearing a cute dress and had her hair braided to one side in a sort of tribute to an up-do. Haru straightens her hair as they’re led to their table.

“I’ll get better at it eventually,” Makoto tells him. Haru’s mouth ticks up.

“It’s good,” he assures him. They pass in front of the bar on the way to their table, and Haru hardly recognizes them in the mirrored backsplash. His clothes are a little simpler than Makoto’s, but he’s not under classed in his nearly-black indigo blazer over a robin’s egg v-neck. He doesn’t look out of place, and he sends Rin infinite gratitude when Makoto leans to whisper _‘you look amazing’_ into his ear. Haru _burns._

They arrive at their table and the view takes Haru’s breath. It seems like Makoto is pulling out all the stops to amaze Haru every way he can, and it’s working. Their table is pushed up under the windows, and when Haru leans towards it and looks, he can see straight down into the ocean. It’s getting dark now, but that only means the stars are coming out.  

The waiter comes with their menus and goblets of icy water, and Haru is parched. He tears his eyes from the window and tries not to gulp his water. He’s happy to find the menu full of fresh seafood, a little less happy to not see prices anywhere. Makoto sips his water politely and Haru shoots him a look.

“Just how expensive is this place?” he asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. Haru narrows his eyes.

“Makoto.” Makoto puts his hands up and smiles in surrender.

“I get a discount, if it makes you feel better,” he says. Haru blinks.

“Why?” It wasn’t a black tie level place, but it definitely wasn’t the kind of place to run coupons in the paper either. Haru has a right to be suspicious. Makoto sees through him and fakes looking hurt.

“Is it that unbelievable for me to have a couple favors to call in when I need them?” he asks.

“When you put it that way.. I guess not,” Haru concedes.

“The place had a fire a few years ago,” Makoto explains. “The owner was very grateful to us.” He rolls his arm over on the table, and with his sleeves rolled up, his usually hidden tattoo is proudly displayed. Haru still hasn’t gotten a really close look at it, so he can’t help but lean forward in his seat a little.

“This will give me a discount,” Makoto says. He cocks his head and immediately amends it. “That’s not why I got the tattoo, for the record.” Haru probably wont get a better chance, so he takes it.

“Why did you?” Makoto doesn’t balk from it. Haru knew it was a fire fighter’s helmet, but up close he can recognize the station number and emblem from his visit, along with a star with two solid bars behind it. He has a feeling he knows the story behind this one, but he’d still like to hear Makoto tell it.

“Ah, well, it’s a not very exciting story about me messing up.”

The waiter returns before Makoto can finish, so they place their order first. Haru, predictably, gets an entree with mackerel and tuna, while Makoto goes with a steak. The waiter asks again if they’re sure they wouldn’t like a bottle of wine, but Makoto takes a pass. Haru still isn’t recovered enough to attempt alcohol again after last time, so he sticks to water too. The waiter leaves, and Haru looks at Makoto for him to continue.

“As you can tell, it’s for my station.” Makoto taps at the number and Haru nods. Makoto unfolds his napkin and gives it to Mariko, who entertains herself trying to tie it in knots.

“I trained with the Tokyo Fire Department when I still lived there, but the city really wasn’t for me. So I left and went up to Sendai, to get better training on more rural areas. When there was an opening here, so close to my parents, I jumped on the chance.” Haru thinks about how again, Makoto is surprising him. Makoto is always so reliable and supportive, it’s easy to forget his personal ambitions run deeper than a river.

“But?” Haru prompts. Makoto scrunches his face and tubs his neck. Haru tries not to be distracted by how it moves his shirt and makes a window for his collar bones to peek through.

“But, even though I got the job and the chief was welcoming, I didn’t really fit in with anyone. They heard I trained in Tokyo and worked in Sendai, and assumed I thought I was some hotshot city kid who was out here to make the locals look incompetent.” Makoto says. Haru has the urge to stand up and track them down, but Makoto isn’t finished.

“I had just broken up, and moved out of the apartment with Sousuke to move out here. My apartment wasn’t any bigger than yours. And then no one liked me at the job I was planning on working at for the rest of my life. I was pretty lonely, honestly,” Makoto says. Haru thinks about how he was just as lonely a city over, and how stupid it was for them not to be lonely together. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“What about coaching?” he asks. He might have planned on being a fire fighter, but coaching was still Makoto’s dream job. Makoto smiles.

“I hadn’t found that job yet, I was still asking around,” he says. Haru sips more water.

“The first real fire I went to was in this really old building. It should have been condemned, but somehow it fell through the cracks. I went in with the others in my company, but I was the last one out.” Makoto’s eyes are still and unfocused. Haru braces himself.

“We had cleared the place, but I thought I heard something that wasn’t from the fire, so I went back. Toma went with me. We found a guy covered in plaster from the ceiling. He was barely conscious, so I shared my oxygen while Toma and I helped him towards the door. That’s when the front of the building collapsed.”

Haru’s heart drums in his ears. Makoto was living breathing proof that he survived, but Haru’s heart doesn’t care about that. A burning building had collapsed on Makoto, and Haru would have never even known. Makoto leans so his arm is more under the light, and turns it so Haru can see the scar tissue.

“A beam broke my arm, tore my gear. I managed to get Toma to take the guy through the debris before the rest collapsed, but I didn’t tell him my arm was the only thing keeping the beam from crushing me. I watched them go and I… Figured that was the end.”

Haru doesn’t breathe. Even Mariko is respectfully quiet.

“I was feeling pretty faint from the smoke, so I thought I was seeing things when they came for me. My entire company, they came in and dragged me out, every one of them risking their lives. I passed out on the way to the hospital. When I woke up, half the station was in my room. Toma told them what I did, and they told me I was family now. I’ve been close with everyone ever since.”

Haru doesn’t know what to say. Makoto had saved two lives and nearly sacrificed his own. The most selfless thing Haru’s done recently was try and cheer Rin up by subjecting himself to more fashion criticism.

“You’re amazing,” Haru says. Makoto jerks in surprise, and Mariko giggles. It’s the first time Haru’s seen him blush all night. Makoto shakes his head, rebuttal already on his lips, but their food arrives in the nick of time. Makoto thanks the waiter, quickly switching back to a sincere smile of gratitude.

“I’m not taking it back, so you might as well eat,” Haru tells him, a little sternly. Makoto laughs and gives in, lure of prime beef far too strong. Haru takes a bite of his own food and closes his eyes in approval. They definitely got the fish right. Haru takes another bite and is already trying to sort out what they’d used so he can try to recreate it at home.

“It’s good then?” Makoto asks him. Haru nods.

“Yours?” He can’t imagine it’s _not_ good, but Makoto cuts a bite and spears it on his fork to offer it to Haru, and he doesn’t have to imagine. He takes one quick glance around to make sure no one is watching, and bites it off Makoto’s fork, face hot the entire time. It was good, tender and a little rare. Haru’s impressed. Makoto laughs and nudges his foot under the table.

“Don’t worry, their cake isn’t anywhere near as good as yours.” Haru snorts.

Makoto’s back to normal after that, telling quick stories about less intense times with his job while he lets Mariko gnaw potatoes off his fork. Haru knows he’s backtracking- trying to cover the story where he almost died with ones about saving stuck cats until his job doesn’t seem that dangerous anymore. Haru lets him think it’s working, but something eats at him as steadily as he clears the plate in front of him.

Makoto could have died, and Haru wouldn’t have had a clue. That scares him. But it also makes him strong.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he interrupts, somewhere in the middle of a story about one of Makoto’s first swim classes. It catches Makoto by surprise.

“For water-wing day?” he asks. Haru sets his fork down and meets his eyes.

“For everything.” Makoto frowns. He tucks a loose part of Mariko’s hair back behind her ear.

“If you’re trying to apologize about the past again, stop it,” Makoto says. Haru chews his lip. He wants to. He wants to promise anything that would help make it better. He hates that Makoto’s gone through such efforts only for Haru to ruin their date. Makoto can read the conflict on his face, and he mirrors Haru with his fork, and leans back in his chair. Haru doesn’t think he realizes he does it to make himself taller.

“I’ve worked really hard to not let anything tie me down from my past Haru. Not just what happened with us, either. I’m not trying to ignore it or deny it, I just don’t want my past to overshadow my future.” Mariko coos at him and Makoto goes lighter, rubbing her back.

“You shouldn’t let anything tie you down either. Be free, remember?” Makoto smiles, it pains Haru. He’s tired of being free.

“There are some things I wouldn’t mind being tied down to,” he says, only realizing it as he says it. Makoto’s eyes widen in shock.

“What do you mean?” he asks. Haru knows he can’t just assume Makoto can read this one off him. He has to say it out loud. He stirs the remaining food on his plate.

“I mean.. Us,” Haru says finally. Haru thinks he understands why Makoto hesitated on calling him a friend. It wasn’t something Haru had or hadn't done, it wasn’t that Makoto didn’t really consider him a friend and had to lie about it. Makoto hesitated because he didn’t want to call Haru a friend, he wanted to call Haru a _boyfriend._

Makoto hasn’t said anything, but he’s watching Haru intently, eyes a mix between guarded and hopeful. Haru’s hands curl into fists on the table. He swallows and makes his gamble.

“Is that okay?” Once he looks away he can’t bring himself to look back at Makoto. He stares into his water goblet, eyes unfocused. He doesn’t have to wait long before Makoto’s hands reach across the table and gently unfurl Haru’s. Haru watches in mute shock as Makoto lifts his hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Haru’s skin crackles with it, and he feels it shoot into his toes.

 _“Haru,”_ Makoto says and his voice sounds like it could break with joy. Haru finally looks back at him, and Makoto’s smile nearly blinds him.

“Haru, would you go out with me?” Makoto asks, grinning like he’s won the lottery. Haru opens his mouth and shuts it, feeling the blush spread all the way to his neck. His eyes dart from Makoto to the window and back, but it isn’t any easier for him to speak.

 _“Idiot,”_ he grits. Makoto laughs, pure and unbridled. Mariko picks up on the energy and laughs with him, throwing her hands in the air like she’s going down a roller coaster. _Idiots,_ Haru corrects himself fondly. But they were _his_ idiots now.

The next time the waiter comes, their plates are cleared and their hands are still interlocked on the table. They decide to skip dessert.

 

Makoto pays the taxi driver to take them all the way to his front door. Mariko is falling asleep fast, but more than that, he wants to be alone with _his boyfriend_ as soon as humanly possible. The thought leaves him a little giddy, and he skips up the step into his house when he unlocks it for them.

Haru follows him inside obediently, looking a little dazed himself. Makoto can’t stop smiling. Haru, his _boyfriend._

He tells him to make himself comfortable while he puts Mariko to bed, and can’t help sneak a quick peck on Haru’s cheek before going upstairs. He gets Mariko changed and ready for bed in record time, but besides tossing his scarf and tie haphazardly towards the closet, does nothing to get himself ready for bed.

He didn’t plan on going to bed yet. His _boyfriend_ was waiting downstairs.

He comes back and Haru’s back is to him, digging around in the fridge. He’s got an empty glass on the counter, so he must be looking for something to drink. Makoto’s glad he skipped getting a drink with dinner, though he had considered it. If he had had any alcohol before a confession like that he wouldn’t have believed his memories for a second afterwards.

Haru hasn’t noticed him, and Makoto can’t have that. His drink can wait. Makoto was a patient man, but despite popular belief, even _his_ patience wore thin sometimes. He slides his hands down Haru’s waist, pulling a quiet ah from Haru in his surprise. Makoto moves until his hands are over Haru’s hips, and uses them to pull Haru up closer. Haru leans back against him, and rests his head against Makoto’s chest. He has to crane his neck to kiss him, but he’s been waiting all night to kiss Haru properly.

It only lasts a moment before Haru turns himself around and presses them together, deepening the kiss. Makoto wonders if Haru’s been waiting for it too. Haru’s hands clench in his vest when Makoto lets his fingers tease up under Haru’s shirt and across skin. When Haru pulls apart to breathe, he lets Makoto help him with his blazer before pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it aside.

Makoto leans and kisses along his neck. Haru was a fast learner, it seems. Makoto keeps pressing kisses into his neck and down into his shoulders even as Haru struggles with the buttons of Makoto’s vest. By the time it’s undone, Haru is breathing hard. Makoto is pleased to see Haru is as eager for this as he is, even if Haru doesn’t quite know what Makoto has in store for him.

Makoto shrugs out of his vest and hangs it on the back of the chair with Haru’s blazer, but Haru is already working on Makoto’s shirt buttons. Makoto lets him get one more down before slipping his fingers under Haru’s waistband and undoing his belt. He pulls it from it’s loops and lets it fall to the floor with a clang. Haru shivers. The belt trick was a classic.

Haru finally gets to the last button the same time Makoto’s finished with Haru’s pants, and when Haru pulls his shirt corners free from Makoto’s pants, Makoto is shoving Haru’s khakis down around his hips at the same time. He smiles against Haru’s throat.

“I keep expecting to run into jammers,” he says in Haru’s ear. Haru runs his palms down the exposed middle of Makoto’s chest.

“I knew I was coming to see you,” he murmurs back. It goes straight to Makoto’s groin. He tilts Haru’s chin and kisses him again, slicking his tongue down into Haru’s mouth and eliciting Haru’s first moan. It’s all the encouragement Makoto needs.

He releases Haru’s lips and moves down, planting kisses down his throat, his chest. He runs his hands up Haru’s sides and to his nipples so he can keep kissing towards his destination. Haru is quickly turning into putty under his hands. He’s forgotten about his mission to strip Makoto as soon as Makoto’s thumbs had started pinching and flicking over the sensitive area on his chest. Makoto keeps moving down, kneeling when it’s too uncomfortable to keep standing.

Haru sucks in a breath, finally realizing what’s happening. Makoto can see he’s already half hard through his boxers. Makoto’s the same, only his is still trapped by jeans. He tries to continue down his course, and quickly realizes his error.

He rumbles into a laugh beneath Haru, and Haru goes rigid. Makoto laughs a little harder. There was no way this was going to work. Haru doesn’t understand and he’s already trying to pull away. Makoto wraps his arms around him and holds him in place. Makoto wants to explain before he gets self-conscious.

“What’s the first thing you said to me?” Makoto rests his chin on Haru’s chest and looks up at him. Haru is blushed red, and blinks rapidly.

“What?” he manages. Makoto laughs.

“The first thing you told me, that I got taller again. I didn’t realize how true that was until just now,” he says. It takes Haru another several blinks before he puts two and two together, then he blushes even harder. Makoto kisses him again and stands back up.

“Change of plans,” he mouths against Haru’s earlobe, and picks him up. Haru makes a sound Makoto is sure he’ll deny later, his hands scrambling against Makoto for a grip. But Makoto is strong and confident, and he knows he wouldn’t drop Haru in a hundred years. Besides, they weren’t going far.

He sweeps the table clean with his free-er arm and sits Haru on it, pushing him down until he’s laying on his back, his legs hanging mostly off the edge. Makoto kisses him until Haru’s hands move up into his hair. Makoto frees one hand to slip it down Haru and under his boxers, and swallows Haru’s moan when he touches him. If Haru was disappointed Makoto couldn’t blow him on his knees, he certainly doesn’t show it.

Makoto releases his mouth and returns to his original plan, steadily stroking Haru as he moves down. He kisses over Haru’s hipbone and Haru sucks in a breath. Makoto licks down it but stops himself short from the goal.

“Makoto,” Haru chokes and Makoto knows Haru doesn’t know what to do. Makoto tugs Haru’s pants down and kisses his thigh as soon as it’s exposed. Haru wiggles to help, and in seconds Haru is hard and naked on his kitchen table, looking at Makoto and _wanting._

“Relax,” Makoto tells him, although Haru is already loose and liquid. “Let me do this.” Haru nods mutely, the look of trust he has in Makoto burning through his veins. Makoto hooks a foot around a chair so he can have a seat so he can do this properly. He runs his hands over Haru’s sides just to watch the goosebumps raise in their wake.

He leans his face against Haru’s inner thigh, so close Makoto knows Haru can feel Makoto’s breath on his erection. He thinks about saying thanks before his meal, but doesn’t think Haru would see the humor in it like he does.

One of Haru’s hands comes seeking for him, so Makoto takes it with one of his. He curls their fingers together and licks a stripe down him. Haru shudders out a broken moan, and Makoto thanks the gods above that he’s the one who gets to do this to Haru. He licks him again, letting his tongue drag across him slowly.

Makoto alternates between wet open mouth kisses and licking until Haru is leaking and his hips buck against him. Makoto is grateful it doesn’t take long because he hasn’t touched himself despite all the sweet sounds Haru is making, and it’s a slow torture. He squeezes Haru’s hand and sucks the tip into his mouth. Haru jerks and moans so loud it’s nearly a yell. Makoto smiles around him and presses his mouth further down. Haru thrusts involuntarily into him, but Makoto moves against it to keep him right on the edge. Makoto swirls his tongue around his head, and Haru whines.

Haru lets go of his hand and puts it in Makoto’s hair, gently tugging him down. Its a clear message to stop teasing him, and Makoto is ready to obey it. His hands are free again, and he makes quick work of freeing himself from his jeans and pumping. He moans against Haru in his mouth, and Haru’s hand clenches in his hair.

The only sounds in the room are Haru’s ragged breathing and the wet sounds Makoto makes on him, punctuated by soft moans from both of them. Makoto sucks to rip another loud sound from Haru, and knows his humble kitchen will never be the same.

Suddenly Haru’s hands leave his hair and push at him weakly, getting desperate. Makoto knows whats happening, and he pushes himself down to take as much of Haru into his mouth he can. Haru comes with a sound like a sob, and Makoto comes in his hands as he swallows him down.

Makoto releases him and wipes his chin. They’re both still panting, and he rests his face on Haru’s thighs while he recovers. Haru pets his hair back and Makoto hums contently. They stay like that until Haru starts to sit up and groans.

“Haru?” Makoto asks. Haru slumps back against the table. Makoto snags a kitchen towel and rubs his hands off with it.

“What’s wrong?” Haru looks at Makoto, his eyes blue and dismayed.

“Makoto, we _eat_ here,” he says, quietly horrified at the transgression. Makoto laughs darkly. Haru has no idea. Makoto has only had a taste, no where _near_ a full course. He mentally adds it to his bucket list. He helps Haru sit up, and Haru slides off the table with a grimace. Makoto laughs and leans in to kiss him before stopping himself. Haru frowns at him.

“Sorry, I’ll brush my teeth, that would probably be gross for you, huh?” Haru’s frown deepens and he leans up and kisses him. Makoto is too stunned to do anything. Haru tilts his head for a better angle, and slips his tongue in his mouth when Makoto lets his guard down. He lets him go, a smug little grin on his face.

“I don’t care,” Haru tells him bluntly. Makoto grins back at him. He kisses him, slowly, until Haru sighs against him.

“Let’s go to bed,” Makoto says quietly. Haru’s already leaning against him, and he nods into his shoulder. Haru takes his hand, and Makoto turns the lights out behind them.

 

Makoto wakes up late in the morning feeling warm and satisfied. He can’t feel Haru up against him, so he pats the bed to search for him. He yawns and cracks his eyes open when he can’t find him. His bed was empty, and when he looks over, so is Mariko’s crib. Haru can’t be far, so Makoto gets up and stretches.

He pads downstairs and bursts into a laugh at the sight of Haru bent over the table scrubbing. He’s only wearing the shirt Makoto had lent him to sleep in and ridiculous rubber cleaning gloves that go to his elbows, and when he hears Makoto laughing his ears turn pink.

“We _eat_ here,” he mumbles defensively. He’s stacked the pictures Makoto had swept to the floor the night before neatly to the side, and Makoto can see breakfast already in the works. Mariko doesn’t stir, too entertained by playing with her cereal in her chair. Makoto doesn’t say anything, just walks up to Haru and wraps his arms around him.

Haru pouts a little for being laughed at, but when he leans his face up expectantly Makoto is quick to give him the kiss he’s asking for.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” he says. Haru hugs him back and tucks his red face in Makoto’s chest.

“G’morning... _Boyfriend_ ,” Haru tries the word like he’s never said it. Makoto hugs him tighter and spins him around the kitchen until Haru chokes out a laugh and Mariko is screeching and cheering for them. Haru protests weakly and Makoto lets him go for the sake of saving breakfast from a charcoal-crusted death. He picks up Mariko instead, waving her in the air and dancing around with her. He catches Haru watching them with a fond expression and presses Mariko up against him. She does exactly what Makoto hoped she would, and plants a fat sloppy kiss on his face. It startles a laugh out of Haru, and the three of them laugh through the whole morning together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add ‘fisting’ to my personal dictionary for this chapter
> 
> also sorry I totally made up the mansion with a hedge maze ¯\\_(ㅎ_ㅎ)_/¯


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You might get to see daddy break down a door today Macchan,” he tells her. She doesn’t seem bothered by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNDERSTAND I’M NOT A DOCTOR AND DO NOT TAKE ANY OF THIS AS MEDICAL ADVICE (ФДФ)

 

“I can borrow the truck for you if you want.”

“Don’t bother, I never got my license anyway.”

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t suppose you would have ever needed one..”

Makoto trails off. He can’t help that nagging feeling of forgetting something that always comes before he leaves for a trip. His bag is packed, worn canvas down to pathetic threads in some places. He really should replace it. Maybe he still has time to run out and buy a new one and repack. He rubs at his lip with his thumb. Of course there’s no time for that.

Haru uncharacteristically puts a hand on his back, moves back and forth a couple times soothingly before abruptly pulling away. Makoto smiles gratefully at him. He’s still getting used to the whole physical contact with another human being thing, and every adorable attempt makes Makoto’s heart sing in his chest.

It hits him then, that the thing he’s forgetting is obviously Haru. Shame takes a second longer, he should probably feel more like he’s leaving Mariko behind first and foremost, but he always left her in good hands and hardly had reason to worry about her.

But _Haru_ , with Haru he always felt the need to worry. Stupid of him, really. Haru was as much an adult as Makoto was, and they had each managed to take care of themselves and survive alone up to this point somehow. Haru stretches to get a mug off a high shelf and his shirt rides up, just slightly. Makoto frowns at the pale skin that peeks at him.

It’s properly winter now, but Makoto still boasts a healthy tan. Haru’s skin gave the appearance of a shut in, which he had never been, before. And so _skinny._ Makoto’s arms know how much his entire body weighs against him, and even soaking wet it wasn’t impressive. Haru was lean by nature, but never skinny. Makoto feels validated in worrying about him. Whatever he’d done up until now probably resembled mere surviving than living, and that was the knot Makoto had yet to figure out how to untie.

“I don’t _have_ to go,” Makoto lies. Technically, it _was_ an optional training camp, but Makoto had never missed one before, and he didn’t want to start now. Haru stills, frown pointed. Makoto runs a anxious hand through his hair.

“It’s only a few days,” Haru reminds him. “We’ll be _fine.”_ Makoto nods in agreement, but he can’t kill the feeling in the back of his throat. He’s glad he took the time to stock his pantry and fridge before Haru came over and wonders if the little envelope of cash he left him was too thin. Haru narrows his eyes at him like he understands all of this as well, so Makoto makes a show of checking his phone instead.

It was early, even for Makoto, and Mariko had long fallen back asleep in her chair while he finished getting ready once Haru got there. He doesn’t want to wake her as much as he wants to. Manners win out over selfishness in the end, he knows if she woke up cranky she’d only trouble Haru, and Haru was already doing him a huge favor watching her. He brushes her hair off her sleeping face and feels better, feels ridiculous for worrying so much. It was four days. He’d gone years without Haru before, four days should barely keep his attention.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, to himself and Haru. Haru softens, his face suggesting a smile more than exhibiting it. Makoto is careful of his tea when he leans down, presses his lips to Haru’s, _chamomile_ , then he pulls away just as quickly. Haru’s eyes stay open, lips parted just enough for breath to slip through. How Makoto wishes he could stay and steal it away properly.

Instead he kisses the top of Haru’s head and ducks to do the same to Mariko. He’s going to miss his train to Kobe if he lingers much longer.

“No wild parties while I’m gone,” he says. Haru sips his tea.

“No promises.” His eyes glint. Makoto almost says it. He shakes his head instead.

“Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you in a couple days.” He shrugs his beaten backpack on his shoulders and Haru walks him to the door. He sneaks his own peck in when Makoto turns the door knob. Haru turns back toward the kitchen and Mariko, and Makoto smiles after him. Haru never was good at goodbyes, and that was close to downright affectionate.

_Four days, Tachibana. Four days and you can come home._

 

Haru, for his part, wastes no time once Makoto leaves. He’d readily agreed to watch Mariko when Makoto had asked him, and not just for the chance to sleep in a big bed and use a real tub.

He had an ulterior motive, but an altruistic one. He’d noticed an annoying trend, living in Makoto’s house half the time. While Mariko’s things were all new and pristine, nearly all Makoto’s clothes seemed old or worn or just outright unwearable anymore. It’d taken Haru a while to notice, Makoto somehow pulled off the look to be more rugged than ragged, but Haru had snapped to his senses when he washed a pair of Makoto’s jeans and could stick his hand through the hole in one knee.

He’d paid attention since then, and came to the conclusion that Makoto was an idiot. He still works too much and spends what little free time he has on everyone else, and his wardrobe was paying the price. He’d made a quiet plan to replace what he could without being noticed, and had already succeeded with Makoto’s monster work boots. He switched the tattered version (four holes in the seams- he had counted) for an identical new pair he bought new and dragged through the dirt, and Makoto still hasn’t noticed a whole week later.

He makes sure Makoto isn’t coming back for something forgotten, then sneaks upstairs to pick new victims. The jeans, definitely, but he picks over Makoto’s closet and finds several other candidates long past their expiration. He shakes his head at the pile in front of him- he’ll never understand Makoto’s tastes. There was a good section of his closet that boasted dry clean only pieces of fashion- and then there was this molted mess of generic shirts and trousers.

And not one pair of space-fish. Haru smiles and thinks of what Rin would say.

Back downstairs, he gathers Mariko and her bag into her ridiculous stroller and heads out. It’s still an uncomfortably early time of day, but Haru has aspirations for his free reign over Makoto’s house while he’s gone, and the first part is shopping.

“This is just between you and me, okay Macchan?” He could probably trust her to keep it a secret. She yawns something that has too many vowels in it and rubs at her eyes, but she’s perking up with the fresh air. It’s as close to a promise as he’s going to get, so he takes it.  

 

Four stores later, Haru is running out of steam. He’d made great progress, really, but shopping with Mariko was a hands on experience he’s still not skilled at. She wants to touch everything, seemingly only to decide whether or not it needs to go into her mouth for further inspection. Haru already had to buy one shirt he knows won’t fit Makoto because he turned around and half the sleeve was soaked, Mariko looking smug and innocent in her seat next to it. It wasn’t even a _nice_ shirt, just the logo of some energy drink in bright colors across the front of it. Haru had tucked it in the bottom of his bag and vowed to keep a closer eye on her.

Then there’s other customers. They were the worst. All the women wanted to stop and chat- _how old? has she walked yet? she’s such a happy baby-_ and it leaves Haru worn out and a little queasy. One woman old enough to be his grandmother cornered him and Mariko for 14 precious, agonizing minutes.

“Try to be a little less charming,” he tells her when he sneaks off to change her. Mariko makes no such promises.

They escape to a food court for lunch, and Haru lets her eat off his plate. The man behind the counter had given him extra once he’d seen her. Not quite enough to balance out the ugly drool shirt in his bag, but it helps.

She plays with a noodle and Haru takes the moment to lean against the back of his chair and pull out his phone. Predictably, he has a couple messages from Makoto. They weren’t anything important, just that he made it and how are things on your end, but it makes Haru smile anyway. He’s starting to understand why Makoto doesn’t go shopping himself. It’s probably worse for him. Makoto would probably _still_ be talking politely to that grandmother-woman. He texts Makoto back and goes to dump his tray and trash.

He turns around and there are two children starring intently at Mariko in her stroller. For her part, she stares back just as intently, reminding Haru of a cat before it pounces. He stands behind her and clears his throat. The children snap out of it and start talking at once. Haru can make out _‘baby’_ and _‘pretty’_ and, weirdly, _‘race car’_ before Mariko starts giggling and all meaning is lost on him. Haru contemplates just wheeling Mariko away and getting the hell out of there without saying anything, but he’s pretty sure the children would follow him.

“There you two are! I turned my back for _one_ minute and you’re already harassing some poor man and his daughter!”

“No we aren’t!” and “What’s harassing?” spill out of them at the same time, impossible to tell which came from whom. A woman with her hair spilling out from a loose bun in at least three sections comes running after them and Haru feels better instantly, as soon as he realizes he won’t have to be responsible for them too.

“Yes I know, she’s a very cute baby, just like you used to be a long, _long_ time ago,” to Haru, she ducks apologetically and adds, “Sorry for bothering you, dad!”

She herds them back to the other side of the food court and disappears before he can correct her. Mariko tugs at him.

“Saba,” she coos. Haru bites his lip and frowns at where the woman and her children had been a moment before.

“Tell _her_ that,” he huffs. He’s suddenly irritable, though he doesn’t know why. The kids hadn’t done any harm, and their mom was nice enough. He stalks off in the opposite direction of her and the kids and towards the last stores he planned on stopping at. By the time he makes it inside and into the men’s section in the back of the store, Mariko is babbling and taking all his attention again, and Haru forgets all about it.

 

Haru puts Mariko to bed early. She’d been a good sport overall, but they had both been up too early to make it to bedtime. Their day had been filled with _earlys;_ early breakfast, early shopping, early lunch, early nap time, early dinner, and now, finally, early bedtime. Mariko falls asleep swiftly, and as Haru leans on the crib railings watching her go, he seriously considers turning in as well. It was just after five in the evening.

Haru sighs and lets his head hang. 12 hours since Makoto left. He wonders if he’s done training for the night, if he’s eaten. He thinks about messaging him, but he doesn’t have anything to say.

Instead, he dumps the days shopping out on Makoto’s bed and starts ripping stickers and cutting price tags off. He’ll need to send the lot of it through the wash before sneaking it into the closet. He supposes he could have brought the dirty laundry from his apartment and taken advantage of Makoto’s washer, but lugging even a half filled basket of dirty laundry that far on a train wasn’t exactly an exciting prospect for him.

He starts a load and isn’t sure what to do for the rest of the night. In the end, he does what he always does when he’s suddenly struck with time to kill, and digs his sketchbook and pencils out of his bag.

He starts with hands. He always starts with hands when he draws him. Blocky at first, looking a little like they belong to a poorly made action figure more than a person, but that’s okay. He draws them in pairs, folded politely on a table, laced together and stretched up over his head, buried in a towel as he dries a mug. He draws them alone and solitary, wrapped around the back of a neck, tapping on a worn steering wheel, palm up, open and inviting. They get more detailed and realistic as he goes, light whisper soft lines making the fine wrinkles on his knuckles, a scar on this finger no one has business knowing about but the owner, the nail on the thumb bitten down to the skin.

Haru knew plenty of people that hate drawing hands, but he was never one of them. Even when he struggled to understand how to get them on paper, he’d always been interested in them. Hands always told you so much about a person; and it wasn’t their fault they were difficult to get down. He flips the page and realizes it’s not even the second page anymore, and understands that the subject really does impact the work. He stretches and leans back, not sure how many hours he’s poured into the pages on his lap, but knows from the pitch he can see through the windows that it’s late.

He flips back through them. Closes his book and sets it on the table. Walks into the kitchen and pours a glass of water from the tap. He drinks half and refills it before he heads back. He curls himself back into his end of Makoto’s couch with his sketch book in his lap, but doesn’t open it, and instead stares up at the ceiling.

What was he doing, sitting up alone in Makoto’s house in the middle of the night with a sketchbook filled with drawings of his hands? Haru isn’t sure if he’s pathetic or creepy. He unlocks the screen of his phone only to see the low battery indicator and nothing else and recognizes its something else entirely.

He’s lonely.

He decides it’s time for bed. He leaves his water on the table.

 

Haru floats. It’s as dark in his dreams as it surely is outside, but Haru hardly notices that.

He can’t remember how long he’s been floating like this, he thinks it’s possible that he’s never started, never stopped. The water is as still as glass, and Haru kicks lazily to drift across the infinite surface of it. The only sound is his own breathing, slow and quiet. He feels the edges of his limbs blurring, slow as sand in an hour glass melting into the water.

It’s a peaceful dream, but one that doesn’t last.

Softly, his body rocks. Then again. _The tide_ , Haru thinks, unconcerned.

A sound rushes through his ears so abruptly he jostles forward, sitting up on the water’s surface impossibly for a moment before his legs unfold and he’s forced to tread water. The silence is back again, but suffocatingly. He strains to hear it again, to understand, but the tide is growing in force, and he can only hear waves.

He spins around, searching, but there’s nothing, only water rushing in. Finally, he hears something, although it’s clearly different. He squeezes his eyes shut to concentrate, forcing himself to identify it.

The sound comes with the tide, quiet and gurgling, distant and dangerously close.

 _Someone is crying_ , Haru realizes with a start, and the sea floods his lungs.

 

He’s gasping on Makoto’s bed, sheets and blankets whipped around him creatively. He’s on the verge of convincing himself that it was just a dream and to try going back to sleep when he hears a muffled sob and shoots up. It’s definitely what he heard in his dream, though he can identify it coming from the baby monitor on Makoto’s nightstand immediately.

It wasn’t just _someone_ crying, it was Mariko, and it’s clear now that it’s what woke him. He throws the covers off him and gets up. She’s normally a good sleeper but it still happens, sometimes, where she wakes up in the middle of the night to fuss and argue until Haru can coax her back to sleep. He doesn’t have any reason to be alarmed until he clicks on the little lamp by her crib and can see her night shirt soaked with hot tears, her bed as much a mess as the one he’d just left.

“Hey, shh, hey,” he tries quietly. She sobs and doesn’t seem to hear him. He leans down to pick her up.

“How long have you been crying? I’m sorry I didn’t hear you earlier.” She’s warm, Haru realizes. Too warm.

“Macchan?” Finally she sees him, she stops sobbing long enough to blink up at him, her little cheeks red and puffy. She sucks in a breath and sobs louder.

 _“Dadda!”_ she whimpers. Haru’s heart crumples and stops.

“Sorry, he’s-” Mariko cuts him off with a teary yell. Haru swallows and runs into Makoto’s room with her. He doesn’t dare set her down while he fumbles for his phone. He hesitates, Makoto's name and picture blissfully unaware beneath Haru's trembling fingers. The time in the corner changes, and Haru goes to the internet instead. Makoto was three hours away, he needs to handle this on his own. He does the fastest internet search in his life.

It sends him into Makoto’s bathroom, yanking drawers open furiously until a baby thermometer rolls to the front of one. It’s an old fashioned glass one, but he recognizes it as the same kind they’d use on the twins from a lifetime ago and thanks some nameless god that it just goes under her arm.

Holding her still without poking himself in the eye with the thermometer is harder than he thought it’d be, especially with her wailing and crying as hard as ever. Its one of the longest three minutes of Haru’s life, but it finally passes. He turns it over to read her temperature. 37.8℃. Fever.

He throws it and hopes it lands on the bed, already tearing back through Makoto’s bathroom. He spots the tops of medication bottles peeking out over the side of a plastic bin on the top shelf and crawls on the counter to reach it, all embarrassment at being too short forgotten. He sighs in relief when he spots baby acetaminophen, not realizing he’d been holding his breath until then.  

He’s as careful as he can be measuring out the right dose after reading the package twice, but with a flailing crying baby in his arms it’s a feat on it’s own. However, when he tries to administer the little cup of abrasive smelling cherry medicine, he realizes how easy he had it. It takes cooing, back rubbing, rocking, sweet-talking and downright pleading to get her to finally drink it, and even then it’s only tiny sips between bouts of crying.

Haru’s rocking her against his chest after she’s finally got it down when he spots the time dimly reflected on Makoto’s nightstand clock. It’s past midnight. He’s slept less than four hours. The realization has the unfortunate effect of making him _feel_ like it, his lack of sleep the foundation for the headache he can feel Mariko’s screaming and crying building on.

 _What would Makoto do?_ Haru rubs his head with his free hand. The answer is obvious and unhelpful. _Take care of everyone._ An area Makoto excels at, but Haru is having a hard time climbing over the learning curve.

Back downstairs Haru fills a sippy cup with juice, hoping it will help with the taste from the medicine, and helps her take gulps of it between sobs. The juice helps, but Haru doesn’t let relief spread over him just yet. She takes the cup by both of its big handles, and Haru lets her hold it. He finds a soft towel to wipe her face with, but she’s still clammy and leaking.

He chews on his lip and tries to rock her soothingly, but it’s a poor imitation of someone naturally nurturing like Makoto and Mariko knows it. He pulls his phone back out since he’s not making any progress anyway, and looks to see if there’s anything else he could do to help her.

A lukewarm bath is on the list he finds. A bath, a bath he can do. There’s hope for him yet.

He fills Makoto’s tub and steps into it with her. He’ll need to change her clothes anyway, and he can wash Makoto’s shirt later. The water is as close to his body temperature as he could manage, but it’s cooler than her. He sits down and settles against the porcelain and Mariko finally starts to quiet. She crawls up his chest to get comfortable and leans against him, tiny face hot against his neck. She stops crying.

“See? That’s better,” Haru speaks softly, cupping his hands to pour water over Mariko’s back. “The water always makes me feel better too.” She coughs against him and Haru tenses for the crying that follows, but it never comes.

Her fist curls in his shirt and she pulls herself closer, eyes squeezed shut and breathing hard. It hits him like a bolt of lightning that in this moment, he’s _everything_ to her. He’s all she has in the world, as far as she knows. She has grandparents and aunts and uncles and of course her dad and a whole fleet of his friends that care about her and would help her but right now, in this little bathtub in the middle of the night, all she has is Haru.

It wasn’t like he’d taken the responsibility of watching a baby lightly, but it’d never really sunk in like this. He wraps his arms around her and holds her as tight as he dares. He understands so much more about the world with her in his arms. Something fierce in his chest awakens, and it’s summoned by this tiny life in his arms. He’s everything to her, and in the same breath he knows in this moment, she’s everything to him too. He’s only ever felt this close to one other person, and it was still _so_ different from this. He cranes his neck and kisses the top of her head, mimicking Makoto and Makoto’s mother before him.

Haru stays in the tub with her until the water goes cool and he worries about it making her worse. She’d fallen asleep in his arms at some point, and doesn’t wake up when he dries her off and changes her into fresh sleeping clothes. Her medicine was finally doing it’s job, and he was grateful for it.

He changes into something dry and fixes Makoto’s bed. He thinks about it for only a second before laying out a towel and setting Mariko on it, then crawls in next to her. It’s an hour into tomorrow by the time he finally falls asleep, and when he does, he doesn’t dream.

Mariko lets him sleep for only a couple hours before she starts coughing and sputters them both back awake. Haru sits up and presses his hand to her forehead, disappointed to find her burning up again. She grabs onto his hand and keeps crying, so Haru scoops her up and heads back for more juice, and they start it all over again.

Her temperature is even higher this time, and Haru hopes he’s making the right decision to just try again with the acetaminophen. It worked before, albeit temporarily, but he knows it normally gets worse before it gets better. He reads the package again, and is a little dismayed to find she’s still got some time to wait before he can dose her again.

He feels oddly calm about it all, even though every sob from her mouth wrecks through him as if it’d been his own. His head is pounding, definitely from lack of sleep and the noise, but he isn’t frustrated, he isn’t annoyed. He just wants her to feel better, and he’d do anything to make it happen. He rubs at his eyes, even though he’s in no danger of falling back asleep. He doesn’t have another dry pair of underwear besides what he’s got on, so he doesn’t do another bath and instead gets a washcloth soaked with cool water for her. It seems to be an acceptable compromise.   

He sits with her and counts down the minutes until he can give her more medicine. They share juice, and Haru rinses out the wash cloth with fresh water twice. He remembers Makoto telling him to talk to her, that she just likes to listen, so he does. Haltingly at first, still quiet against her crying, but it soothes her down to coughs and hiccups, and helps Haru feel better too. He has no idea what to talk about, so he ends up telling her about the cafe. He tells her about how when he worked there the first time, he’d feed stray cats out the back door on his lunch break. He tells her about how Mai was one of those people who he thought would overwhelm and annoy him within minutes, but he thinks they might be friends now.

He’s not sure if she’s listening or just likes the feeling of his voice from his chest where she’s resting, but he keeps going either way. He tells her about Makoto, since she seems to like hearing his name. He tells her about when they were kids, about how worried he was when he found out his mother was pregnant with the twins. He tells her about how concerned he was about becoming a big brother and realizes he probably felt that same fierce spark that he had with Mariko all those years ago with the twins.

Someday, maybe he’ll learn to stop underestimating Tachibana Makoto.

She doesn’t fight the second dose nearly as bad as she did the first, and Haru wilts a little at her weak attempts to push it away. She doesn’t understand. She feels awful and the one person she has to take care of her is feeding her something gross. Haru feels infinitely guilty, even though he knows he’s only trying to help. He apologizes the entire time she drinks it, and quickly replaces it with juice. She drinks it quietly and Haru lets his head fall back on his shoulders. He thinks about calling Makoto again- surely hearing his voice would help her- and decides against it. It wouldn’t have been fair to call him earlier, so it certainly isn’t fair to call him now.

He rinses the washcloth again and walks her around the house, out into the garage where it’s cooler. He shivers but she’s still so hot against him. He carries her over to where Makoto’s bike rests primly on a rug of grease spotted cardboard, tool box open by the back wheel. Mariko’s car seat isn’t far, and Haru can see Makoto, sprawled out to work on the bike, Mariko bouncing in her chair and keeping him company. He’s never seen it, but believes it must be real, because Mariko coos and squirms, clearly searching for her dad.  

“Dadda, _dadda_ , dadda!” It turns into insistent tears. Haru brings her back inside. She’s still fussing, but she’s even more exhausted than Haru, and just doesn’t have the strength to put up much of a struggle. It makes Haru wish there was some way to cheat and skip time until she felt better.

She starts coughing again, so Haru refills her sippy cup with cool water. He lets her drink it while he brushes her sweat-slicked hair back from her face, and slowly, slowly, she quiets back down. He leans back in his chair and sighs.

Once her head starts drooping, Haru takes her back upstairs to try bed again. His limbs are heavy as he struggles his way back in next to her under the blanket, sleep crawling up his spine with a vengeance.

He opens his mouth to yawn and wakes up to Mariko coughing again. It’s lighter in Makoto’s room, so at least a few hours have passed, but the way his arms move like they’re going through thick sludge when he reaches out to Mariko tell him that it hasn’t been nearly enough.

He wraps her up in her blanket, snags a pillow and wears his blanket downstairs. He lets her crawl on the couch while he drags the futon out and sets it up. He turns on the TV, the volume so low it would be ear-straining any other time of day, but it seems right in the predawn light. He surfs around until he finds the channel with those strange, ungodly early morning cartoons. Mariko stops her grumbling to watch, and as Haru watches her get absorbed with the program he understands that they’re on exactly when they’re needed most.

He gets them both more water and rejoins her. She has no interest in hers, but Haru drinks half of his and keeps hers close by. He tries to watch with her, but the brightly colored characters start to blur together and his eyes start to close within minutes. He makes himself stay upright long enough to press the back of his hand against her forehead, but she’s cooler than she was before, so he slumps back against his pillow and surrenders. He can feel Mariko crawl over him and he raises an obliging arm for her, but he’s out as soon as she settles against him.

She wakes him back up with increasingly strong yells and coughs, and Haru feels like he’s moving through mud to reach out and comfort her. Light streaks through the cracks in the blinds, and for a bewildering minute Haru doesn’t know where he is until he remembers setting up the futon downstairs. He rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands and pats Mariko. When his vision clears he’s almost amused that the same goofy looking cartoons are still playing away on the television.

He pats around on the ground for his phone to check the time, and remembers he left it upstairs. He feels like it’s probably before noon, so they’ve slept a chunk of the morning away anyway. Mariko grabs his hand with both of hers, and he tries to smile down at her.

“Feeling any better?” he asks. She screams. Some distant voice in the back of his mind says something about swimmers lungs. He winces and pulls her into his lap, leans against the side of the couch and lets her crawl her way up his chest. She’s close enough, so he holds his hair back and presses his forehead against hers. His heart sinks at how hot she feels.

He struggles to his feet, feeling the full weight of her for the first time in months. He offers her her sippy cup, still full from the night-morning before, but she knocks it out of his hands and to the floor. He’s hardly blinks at it. He finds the thermometer where he left it and tucks it under her arm, pressing her tightly up against him as he takes her upstairs to change her.

He somehow manages to get her changed and her temperature, an upsetting 38.2℃. She isn’t getting better, despite his best efforts. She’s getting worse. She’s miserable, and Haru feels like it’s his fault.

He sets her down again to pick up his phone, and she starts sobbing and calling for Makoto immediately. Haru swipes past all the new messages until he finds Rin’s picture and hits call.

It’s 11:42 in the morning. Every cry for _dadda_ only cements the guilt in Haru’s chest, and he feels like he might crumple under the weight of it before Rin can even answer. Rin, naturally, picks up promptly on the second ring. Haru feels like he’s been on the phone for an hour already. Mariko screams for her dad and drowns out whatever Rin says when he answers.

Haru picks her up, wishing he could explain that what she wants is exactly what he wants as well. She stops to catch her breath just long enough for Haru to talk.

“Rin, I need a favor. Mariko’s sick.”

 

Rin, and by extension, Yamazaki, pull up to Makoto’s door in fifteen minutes. If he’d been able to hold more than one thought at a time, Haru would be impressed.

As it is, he can barely grab the baby bag before Yamazaki has the car seat strapped in the back of his car and Rin busies himself tucking Mariko into it. Yamazaki looks stormy as ever, but Haru doesn’t have the strength to defend himself, and only nods meekly when he asks if Haru is coming.

Haru is happy to sit in the back seat with her, and holds her hands with his the whole blur of a trip. She cries and looks at him imploringly, and Haru knows she wants to be held. When Yamazaki idles in front of the door to urgent care, Haru doesn’t hesitate to jump out and run around to her side to take her in.

Rin follows with the baby bag, but Haru barely notices his presence. He goes straight to the counter, Mariko’s cries and coughs more than enough explanation for him and the nurse at the desk.

“Oh no, does someone have a cold?” she coos at Mariko. Mariko coughs in her general direction. To Haru, she asks: “Are you the father?”

Haru opens his mouth and closes it with a snap. He feels like he’s been slapped. He’s been groggy since he rolled over on the futon to Mariko crying again, but he’s fully awake now.

“I’m..” _Just what, exactly?_ Haru unconsciously squeezes Mariko tighter to him.

“..her babysitter.” The truth has never been so putrid on his tongue.

There’s a terrible moment where nurse and not-father stare at each other, neither sure how to proceed. And then Rin puts his hand on Haru’s shoulder, and gently steps into his space in front of the counter.

“I’m Matsuoka Rin, I’m on her paperwork as her guardian. Her pediatrician is Yanaka, she’s been here before,” he says smoothly. The nurse smiles and flies into action, nearly as relieved at being saved by Rin as Haru is. For his part, Haru feels like melting into the ground through his shoes.

They take Mariko in almost immediately, nurse cooing and rocking her as she walks her back, Mariko’s feeble sobbing fading the further she gets. Rin and Haru stand dumbly before Rin pushes him towards the waiting area.

“Come on. Nothing we can do now,” he says. Haru nods.

It’s awfully quiet.

Haru sits heavily, exhaustion and self-loathing and doubt finally catching up to him. Rin doesn’t follow him into the waiting room. Haru wonders if he went in with the doctor. As her guardian, he’d be allowed, while Haru..

What happened to him? He should be the one in that room with her. He should have been there when Makoto had a baby in the first place. He should be the one Makoto trusts enough to give _guardianship_ to.

He should have been there. He always should have been there. What had he been doing with his life, what was so god damn important that he had kept Makoto out of it.

 _“When have you ever put in the same effort he does? What have you ever done for him?”_ The ghost of Rin’s words haunt him. Head in his hands, he folds over himself in the hard waiting room chair. The position as most important person in Makoto’s life hasn’t been his in so long, what was he doing coming back like some exiled prince, trying to lay his claim for it?

It was quite possible he was the only one who lived and breathed for the other in this relationship. It was _painfully_ possible that Makoto didn’t need Haru, and equally painfully true that Haru needed him.

And Haru _does_ need him, desperately so. Haru needed him from the beginning. He desperately needs him _now,_ even though he knows its impossible. He could play dirty, call from the doctors office, tell him its Mariko that needs him. He has no doubt Makoto would show up impossibly fast, flying any distance for someone he loves.

Haru curls in on himself even more. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him.

A paper cup appears in front of him, and Haru drags his eyes up the arm holding it and up to Rin’s face. Something is burning behind those eyes, but Haru it too exhausted and wrung out to identify it

“Take it,” Rin orders, though not unkindly. Haru takes it. He hadn't realized how cold his fingers were until the heat from the cup sears into them.

“I don't really drink coffee,” Haru says weakly. Rin sits heavily next to him and leans back in his seat, making the hard plastic seem almost comfortable.

“I know. That's why it's tea. Drink it. You’ll feel better.”

Haru drinks it.

“It's bitter.”

“Yeah.”

Heat trickles down his throat and into his gut, then flows through the icy sludge in his veins. It was terrible tea, honestly, but he takes another drink anyway. Rin watches and nods, sips his equally terrible coffee. Neither of them speak, neither of them need to. They were thinking the same thing, for once in perfect sync out of water.

“Have you called Makoto yet?” Rin asks. Haru ducks and looks away.

“I’m not going to. He’d just worry.” Rin sucks against his teeth disapprovingly, but Haru must look too pathetic for him to feel like fighting it further.

“She's been sick before, you know. She's going to be fine this time too.”

“Rin,” comes out of his mouth but he says it like _‘please’._

Rin goes quiet. Haru wonders if he was saying it for his benefit or Haru’s. He drinks his tea. Rin drinks his coffee. When Haru sets his cup on the table and pulls his knees up to his chin, Rin politely acts interested in the TV quietly humming in the corner.

After what feels like hours, but is surely only minutes, the doctor comes out with Mariko looking a little worn out but at least not actively crying anymore. Haru and Rin both jump to their feet, but Haru is the one to take her back. She grabs fistfuls of his jacket and sighs against him. Haru flickers like a candle. He barely hears the doctor talking, but he knows Rin is paying attention for them both.

He hears Rin thanking the doctor and bows with him before following him back outside. Yamazaki is waiting in his car, and Haru wonders if he’s been sitting out here the whole time. Rin opens the door for Haru to buckle Mariko back into her car seat, and it’s abundantly clear from the shopping bags now covering the floorboards on her side of the car that Yamazaki had been busy while they waited for the doctor. Haru takes his seat and tries not to snoop, but he can see the box to a little humidifier pretty easily in one bag, and the tops of formula bottles in the other.

Even Yamazaki was helping more than Haru could. He looks over his shoulder to back out of his spot and Haru avoids his eyes in the rear view mirror. How pathetic he’s become.

“What’d he say?” Yamazaki asks. Haru sits up to listen.

“Just a common fever, probably another day or so. He gave us a bottle of ibuprofen and just said to keep her hydrated and comfortable.” Haru looks from him back to Mariko, relief testing the waters within him.

“Oi, are you listening Haru? Yanaka said it’s nothing to really worry about. You’re doing fine,” Rin says. Haru swallows and nods, and he misses the way Yamazaki’s eyes linger over him in the mirror, assessing. Haru tries to brush Mariko’s bangs out of her sleepy face, but she takes his hand and holds it captive.

He doesn’t remember any more of the drive back to Makoto’s than he did of the drive from it, and only realizes they’re there once Yamazaki is pulling into Makoto’s driveway. He gets out and mutely goes around to get Mariko while Rin grabs the shopping bags. Haru only then notices that Rin is wearing running clothes with his hair sloppily pulled back in a messy ponytail.

Yamazaki unstraps the car seat to return it to the garage, and Haru is less familiar with what he typically wears, but he doesn’t think his casual clothing often includes ties. It nearly overwhelms him in Makoto’s entry. Both of them had dropped their entire day to come help him. He’s frozen inside the door and Yamazaki nearly runs into him when he comes in.

“Yamazaki, I-,” Yamazaki stares at him, waiting for him to finish his thought. Yamazaki doesn’t like him, threatened him, but here he is in work clothes in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, bringing in baby formula and medicine. Haru wants to thank him, or apologize, should probably do both. Haru’s throat tries to work the words, and Yamazaki goes from annoyed to alarmed.

“Shit, if you’re about to have an emotion, don’t.” Yamazaki musses Mariko’s hair and pushes past Haru before he can say anything.

“Sousuke, don’t pick on Haru. Haru, come inside already,” Rin calls from somewhere within.

Haru comes inside.

Rin’s taken over the living room, made Haru’s futon bed and straightened the blankets and is working on putting the humidifier together. It’s shaped like a frog. Haru stands awkwardly, unneeded. Yamazaki brings a pitcher of water and takes the rest of the bags back with him to the kitchen, Rin waves dismissively at them both.

“Haru, I’m saying this as a friend, but you look like shit warmed over. Go take a shower, we’ll watch her for a bit.” Haru’s reluctant to let her go, but she’s basically asleep by now anyway. And they seem to have it handled, so he sets her up on the couch while Rin channel surfs for more cartoons.

 

“Seriously, you need to stop picking on him,” Rin tsks. Sousuke frowns at him.

“I didn’t _do_ anything,” he says. Maybe a little defensively.

Rin has the humidifier pumping cool mist into the room at full strength, and Mariko is finally sleeping soundly on her nest of pillows and blankets stolen from Makoto’s bed. Sousuke digs around in the fridge until inspiration hits, then he’s pulling out pans and chopping boards to make them a late lunch. Rin watches his back move beneath his undershirt. He’d taken the dress shirt and tie off before he started. Rin realizes he’s staring and tsks again. Damn Haru, putting nonsense into his head. Nonsense that has him wondering what the corded muscles on his best friend’s back would feel like. What they’d feel like under Rin’s nails. _Damn him._

“It’s not like he’s had anyone to rely on for the last couple years, cut him some slack,” Rin curtly reminds him. Damned or not, it was clear in the way Haru was barely standing that he was close to crumpling.

“That’s not my fault,” Sousuke says. Rin chews the insides of his cheek. It’s true, Haru and Sousuke had only been starting to be friends, and Haru had never been Sousuke’s responsibility.

“No, it’s mine. At least, a little,” Rin admits quietly. Sousuke shoots him a surprisingly  withering look for someone chopping cabbage.

“Shut the hell up and wash the rice,” he deadpans. Rin snorts but yelps and jumps up when Sousuke swats at him with a towel. He laughs and clings to the container of dry rice, holding it up defensively in front of him before Sousuke can take another shot at him. Sousuke gives him a begrudging approval and returns to his veggies.

Rin sticks his tongue out at him, laughs and runs cool water over his basin of rice. Sousuke had a knack for loosening him up that had nothing to do with his training in massage or chiropractic.

 _But think of what he could do with those combined,_ comes unbidden into his mind. Rin nearly drops the rice. _Thank you_ so _much for that Nanase Haruka._

 

Haru follows Rin’s orders and takes a shower. Makoto has the luxury of a real bath tub, and while normally Haru would never miss a opportunity to take a bath without the chance of having to share it with eighty year old strangers, a shower feels more appropriate.

Haru strips slowly, dragging his clothes off his body with more difficulty than normal. Too late, he realizes he’s still wearing one of Makoto’s shirts over his own pants. He pauses when he walks in front of the mirror and examines his face, gaunt and oily. Rin was right. It was becoming one of his most annoying habits.

He washes his hair with Makoto’s shampoo and conditioner, the bright spikes of citrus perking him up as he breathes in the orange scented steam. He stands under the water until he feels like he has the strength to go back downstairs. He’s careful to put on fresh clothes, _his_ fresh clothes before he does.

Out of the bathroom, the smell of sizzling food hits him like a body blow, and every inch of him screams to remind him exactly how long it’s been since he’s eaten. Comparatively, it isn’t all that long. But it’s impossible to convince his stomach of that.

He wanders down stairs and peeks into the kitchen to see Rin and Yamazaki at the stove, side by side. Yamazaki says something deep and unintelligible from Haru’s spot in the entry, and Rin laughs and kicks him for it. They look comfortable, and Haru misses Makoto intensely in the moment it takes for Rin to notice him.

Rin smiles at him, clearly relieved at the shower’s improvement, and Haru ducks his head before walking by and into the living room. Mariko is still mostly asleep on her bed, but she’s rolling and waking to the smell of food. Haru sits next to her and transfers her into his lap. She’s breathing easier with her frog humidifier, and when Haru pushes her hair back to touch her forehead she feels cooler too.

“Are you feeling better now?” he says it quiet enough that it wouldn’t wake her if she’s really sleeping. As it is, she worms her way closer against him and yawns.

“I’m glad,” he says, meaning it. “You really scared me.” Mariko slits her eyes enough for a flicker of recognition to pass through, then reaches a hand out to Haru’s face. Haru ducks until she can reach. She pats his nose then, satisfied, sighs and closes her eyes, settling in against him.

Rin peeks his head around the corner. “Sousuke made lunch, go ahead and bring her in here, she’s probably hungry too.” Haru does. He’s fairly confident Yamazaki wouldn’t try to poison him, at least not while Rin was there to witness it.

Haru keeps Mariko with him even as he takes his seat in the kitchen. It’s a little strange without Makoto there, but Haru is too exhausted to feel up to fighting with Yamazaki, so he sedately takes the food handed to him. For reasons unknown, Yamazaki doesn’t seem up to fighting him, either.

“If she’s awake we should see if she can get any formula down,” he says. Haru agrees with him, but hesitates when he stands there expectantly. He’s not ready to hand her over to him.

“We played for it while you were in the shower, and he won,” Rin explains. Haru doesn’t understand, but if Rin is on Yamazaki’s side he’s already lost. He hands her over carefully, a little annoyed that she seems just as comfortable with him.

“What does that mean?” he asks Rin, mostly to distract himself from Yamazaki successfully coaxing Mariko to drink her formula. It wasn’t an easy thing to do.

“It means, I get the cute one and he gets you,” Yamazaki answers.

“What does _that_ mean?”  Instead of answering, Rin dumps more food on his plate and pushes it towards him. When Haru hesitates Rin reaches for his chopsticks, and Haru’s hand flies out to grab it before he can.

“Alright alright, I get it already.” Rin grins and watches him take a bite intently, and Haru shudders with the astute knowledge that if he hadn’t started eating when he did, Rin would surely try _feeding_ him. Yamazaki chuckles softly from the side, bouncing Mariko gently against the towel thrown over his shoulder. It’s all very natural for him, a sharp reminder that he’s probably been taking care of her as long as Makoto has had her.

Haru turns back to his food sullenly. As soon as he swallows his first bite, he’s ravenous. Suddenly, even the extra portion Rin had scooped on his plate for him seems too small. It’s good, and he’s starving. It’s like his body had forgotten it wasn’t the sick one, but now that everything looks okay, it’s demanding. He forgoes manners in favor of all but shovelling food into his mouth. At some point a slightly worried looking Rin sets a glass of water next to him, and Haru chugs that too.

Haru slows down by the time Rin refills his glass, and he realizes they’re alone again. he can hear Mariko upstairs, and guesses Yamazaki had taken her up to change her. Rin sits quietly next to him, his plate picked over with a little more composure than Haru’s.

“I still think you should call Makoto,” he says. “He has a right to know, and he’s going to find out eventually.”

Haru wavers. “I’ll text him.” Rin stares at him for a long moment before accepting it with a sigh.

Yamazaki comes back with Mariko drifting off again, and Haru takes her back out to the futon while they clean up the kitchen. She looks loads better already, and Haru smiles down at her. Everyone kept saying she was going to be fine, but watching her sleep soundly for the first time in nearly a day, Haru finally lets himself believe it.

Haru falls asleep sitting by her, and wakes up when Rin comes to tell him they’re leaving. He’s brought them both water and refilled the humidifier, and helpfully leaves Mariko’s medicine and thermometer close enough for Haru to reach without getting up.

“Call me if you need anything, okay? And _tell Makoto.”_ Rin says, somehow sounding like a jerk despite being so helpful. Haru fights his knee jerk reaction to be annoyed with him. Attitude aside, he and Yamazaki had really saved him today.

“...Thank you,” he grits out. Rin grins and pats his head like a pup he’s particularly pleased with, and Haru shrugs him off. Rin follows Yamazaki out and Haru can hear him locking the door behind them.

He relaxes back against the side of the couch and sighs. It’s nearly evening by now, but it feels like it’s been years since Makoto left for his training camp. Mariko sleeps soundly nearby, and Haru really wants nothing more than to lay down next to her and join her. He sighs and gets back on his feet. It takes him a while to find his phone, and when he does, the little light blinking in the corner to tell him about text messages stabs little needles of guilt all through him.

He’d been too busy with Mariko to notice before, but Makoto had been regularly texting him this whole time. There’s one from the night before, then one from when he must have woken up, another around breakfast and lunch. Following this pattern, Haru would probably get the next one in a couple hours.

Haru scrolls through them and reads them again and again. They were nothing important, except that they were from him. Just little _hellos_ and _how are yous_. Just something to let Haru know Makoto was okay and thinking about him. Haru blinks fast, his eyes going tight and dry.

Haru wants to tell him everything. He wants to tell him how he’s missed him since that door shut behind him, how he’s sorry for not being there for Makoto and Mariko before, and how he’s happy to be here now, how he gets it now, he understands him a little better now. He wants to ask about Mariko being sick before, how he dealt with it, how Rin and Yamazaki know her doctor and what to do. He wants to tell him how overwhelmed and unprepared he feels, wants Makoto to reassure him that it’s going to be okay. He wants to tell Makoto to come home. But he can’t, he can’t possibly do that to him.

Haru is so tired.

_We’re fine here too, hope training is going well_

Haru hates himself, just a little.

He turns his phone off, and goes back to bed with Mariko. She’s cooled down enough that he chances pulling her up against him, and she snuggles right up to him. Haru squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself it’s only sweat on his pillow.

 

The rest of the days Makoto is gone go by uneventfully enough. After switching to ibuprofen, Mariko makes a continuous climb back towards health, and her fever breaks sometime in that first night. They’re both still exhausted, but by the day Makoto is supposed to return, Mariko is back to the giggling bouncy baby he’d left in Haru’s care.

Haru feels immensely relieved that she’s bounced right back. The night before they’d both slept all the way through, and it still felt like some kind of miracle. She’s back to solid foods again, and happily tosses her cereal at Haru as he tries to clean the kitchen back up. Haru alternates between flicking them back at her and actually cleaning. It doesn’t really matter, they’ve been too sick and tired to make much of a mess. A little cereal won’t hurt anyone.

Packing goes slower. It isn’t like he really brought much more than he usually does for a night over, but for some reason folding every piece of clothing and returning it to his bag is a struggle. His phone charger is one of the last things to get shoved in the pocket of his bag, and it gives him the most guilt. He’d been only sending Makoto the briefest of updates, afraid if he says anything longer he wont be able to stop. Makoto’s replies got shorter in turn, and Haru feels responsible for that too.

Haru waters Makoto’s little counter herb garden and wonders if he’s keeps a real garden outside during the warmer seasons. Outside it looks like snow, but under Makoto’s care his little planter is growing abundantly. Haru feels weirdly jealous of these plants, flourishing with Makoto’s attention.

He tries coloring with Mariko and watching TV with Mariko and even stacking blocks with Mariko, but as the minutes tick closer and closer to Makoto’s train arriving, Haru loses focus and can’t sit still. Mariko’s block structure towers over Haru’s, much to her squealing delight. She uses the couch to stand, and then lets her self fall and body slam it apart. She rolls on the floor laughing at her own destruction, so Haru smacks his own tower down and lets her laugh at that too.

It was so much better having her back to normal. Haru checks the time again, and decides he’s had enough. He finds their coats and shoves his shoes on for the first time since he went to urgent care and locks the door behind them. He doesn’t even remember he could have taken the stroller until he’s half way to the train station. He doesn’t care. She isn’t a burden. And he’s going to see Makoto.

 

Makoto watches the landscape outside his window grow increasingly familiar with mixed emotions.

On the one hand, he’s going home. He’s missed his daughter and his house and his life as much as he could with how long he was gone. Which is to say, he’s missed it incredibly. He wants to get home, hold Mariko, sleep in his own bed, even go back to his real job. So on the one hand, he’s excited.

The other hand is shaped like dread. The other hand is harder to define, harder to explain. The other hand looks like Haru.

He’d been doing so well with Haru, he’d thought. They’d made up, they’d gone out, they’d even officially started dating. But as soon as Makoto had left, Haru had gone all but silent on him. He hadn’t pushed it, but Makoto had been quietly losing his mind the first day before Haru had finally texted him back.

It had been all too familiar, and frankly, Makoto had been on the edge of calling Rin to make sure Haru hadn’t just disappeared again. But he had finally messaged back, and Makoto had told himself to calm down. Haru is Haru, and communicating with words was never his strong suite.

So Makoto had avoided an outright panic attack, but it had made him painfully aware of something else about their relationship: that he might be more invested than Haru. He’d been trying to take his time, but when he thinks back, he’s been pushing more and more commitment on Haru since the moment he came back into his life. What if he was pressuring Haru into something? What if Haru was only going along with him, what if he felt like it was the only way to stay friends? What if Makoto is the only one really interested in something _more?_

Makoto hates the thought that he could be so blind, but he can’t ignore it. It’s possible. It’s possible, and Makoto owes it to Haru to ease off and let him have his space. Haru was always a pretty private person, and as much as it pains him to admit, Makoto just might not be the exception to that anymore.

So he’d backed off, as much as it killed him. He’d decided to cut down on the texting, and cut down the length of actual messages as well. Enough for Haru to know he’s still there, but not overwhelming like he’d probably been before.

Haru seemed more comfortable with it that way. And hey, if it felt like breathing through shards of glass to pull away from Haru like that, Makoto would just have to deal with it. Somehow. He was still working that out. Haru was worth the effort.

He makes it to his station with a heavy heart. He’s not sure what to expect once he gets home, not really. Mariko and Haru might not even be there. They could be out shopping or at Haru’s cafe or even out in Iwatobi. Makoto shoulders his backpack and considers killing some time before going back. He knows it’s cowardly, but if he goes back and Haru is distant again he’d probably break down.

He waits until the doors are about to close before finally stepping off the train and stretching. It wasn’t the longest train ride he’s ever taken, but he isn’t used to not moving around all the time like that, and the little seats aren’t really made for someone his size.

He’s mid stretch when he hears something that should not exist in the little train station. He swings around and Haru is there with Mariko, holding her tight against his jumper. Mariko squeals and waves and bounces towards him, but Haru holds her steady.

Haru’s eyes connect with his and Makoto watches the ice in them melt back into clear springs. His heart restarts. Subtle enough that anyone else would miss it, Haru smiles. Makoto returns it with the strength of the sun.

When he joins them Mariko all but throws herself into his arms, and Makoto is more than happy to take her. She smells like her baby shampoo and milk and home. He kisses her head while she giggles and pats his face, then turns to Haru. Haru frowns his _‘don’t even think about it’_ frown, and Makoto laughs at him.

“Thank you, Haru.” _For watching her, for having that little bit of light in your eyes that always gives me hope, for being here for me._

Haru nods and leads him towards the exit. “Of course.”

Makoto hadn’t let himself hope for Haru to be waiting for him like this, and it gives him hope that maybe all his doubts and fears aren’t as plausible as he’s led himself to believe. It’s possible.

It’s packed enough inside the station that no one notices when Makoto slips his hand into Haru’s.

 

Surprisingly, Haru doesn’t stay the night.

Makoto had assumed he would, had honestly been _hoping_ he would. They’d walked home together, stopped into the grocery store together, cooked dinner and ate together. Haru didn’t have much to say, so Makoto filled the quiet talking about his training camp, but that was hardly unusual.

Everything was good, but when Makoto expects him to come upstairs with him, Haru hangs back. Black doubt creeps back up his spine.

“You’re not staying?” Makoto knows he shouldn’t assume but well, he’d _missed_ him. He wants him to stay. Haru looks at his bag sitting by the door, clearly packed. The doubt claws further up over Makoto, claws and teeth pricking his skin.

“I have to work the next few days, so I won’t be able to come back for a while.” Haru doesn’t look at him, not directly. The doubt tendrils around Makoto’s neck and squeezes.

A small, hurt “Oh,” is all he can manage. He recovers it quickly.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll figure it out,” he tries for cheerful. _Don’t push him, don’t overwhelm him._ Makoto’s words sound hollow, but neither of them can admit it.

“I’ll let you know,” Haru says. He’s already putting his shoes on. The doubt thickens and pours down Makoto’s throat, choking him. Haru doesn’t want to be here, you were wrong, you were so wrong, he’s leaving he’s leaving he’s leaving-

“Makoto.” Makoto snaps back to attention. Haru’s watching him closely. _Don’t push, don’t crowd._

“It’s okay, I’ll see you soon right?” Haru swallows and nods. Makoto wishes he had something more concrete to cling to. Haru stands in his entry, stuck between coming and going. If Makoto doesn’t say anything, he’s sure he’ll leave. If Makoto says something and keeps him here, he’ll just weigh Haru down until he drowns.

Haru only wants to be free. Makoto kisses his head. He doesn’t dare do any more, he doesn’t think he has the right to.  

“Goodnight Haru,” he says. Haru nods, decision made.

“Goodnight Makoto.”

Makoto lets him go.

Fear he thought he’d gotten over years ago comes flooding back in full force. This wasn’t how Haru left him the last time, but it was close, it was so close.

His body goes to war, his heart versus his head. His heart only wants him to chase out into the cold, to track Haru down no matter how far he’s gone and drag him back into the warm. He doesn’t care if Haru hates him for it, it’s better than not knowing. It’s better than Haru fighting whatever demon he’s up against on his own.

His head tries to calm him down, make him think twice. Of course he can’t drag Haru back like some stray dog. Haru was an adult, Makoto would survive even if he disappeared, for Mariko’s sake if nothing else. His head tells him that these thoughts from his heart are exactly why he can’t go after him.

He has the irrational urge to call him, just to make sure the phone number is still in service. Logically, there’s no way Haru would have been able to disconnect it in the few moments he’s been gone, but Makoto’s scars run deeper than he thought.

He’s sitting inside his door now, but he doesn’t remember doing it. He slips one hand under his shirt, feeling the outline of the ink deep in his skin. He doesn’t have to look to know exactly where it begins and ends, or when his fingers are over the whale or just the embellishments. He’s grounded himself like this more times then he could count and tonight is no different. For as much trouble as it’d brought him, he’d never regretted getting his first tattoo.

“Get yourself together Tachibana. Things are different now.”

Makoto hopes it’s really true. Mind set, he climbs to his feet and goes back to collect Mariko for bed. He’ll give Haru some space, if that’s what he needs. For now, all Makoto can do is trust in Haru and support him from a distance until he’s ready for more.

 

Makoto tries, he tries really _really_ hard, not to bother Haru. Haru had said he’d let him know when he could start watching Mariko and coming to swim lessons with him again, and Makoto tries to trust him.

Still, it feels wrong to go to the swim club without Haru practically vibrating with the want to get in the pool as soon as possible next to him. He’d never really realized how early he’s gotten in the habit of coming for his class, since he’d spend the minutes before the kids start to run in with Haru. Instead, he lingers in the day care area and only heads to the pool once he starts seeing parents and students showing up.

He goes over warm ups while they wait for everyone to arrive, and he’s keeping an eye on them and the door when a tiny hand tugs on his. It’s a concerned looking Hina, and Makoto kneels down to talk to her.

“What’s wrong, Hina-chan?” She looks from him to the far side of the pool and back.

“Where’s Nanase-san? Is he okay?” Makoto smiles and pats her head.

“He’s got work today, but I’ll tell him you’re worried about him, okay?”

“Ah! No that’s okay!” She runs back to warm ups and Makoto smiles after her. He wonders how Haru would feel about Makoto having competition for him. He checks the clock on the wall and claps his hands together.

“Alright! Lets get started!” The kids gather around him and he lets his class take his mind off the fact that he hasn’t even heard from Haru in two days. He decides if he still hasn’t gotten anything from him in the morning, he’ll take matters into his own hands.

 

Makoto eats breakfast with his phone on the table. He’s past caring if it’s bad manners. Mariko is too young to pick up the habit anyway. He eats slower than usual, giving Haru all the opportunity he can stand. His fingers tap an impatient staccato.  

His phone stays silent.  

Makoto washes the dishes. He waters his plants. He cleans Mariko’s face until there’s no more breakfast on it. He clears the table, wipes it down, then does the same to Mariko’s chair and tray.

His phone is still dark and silent. Time’s up. Makoto bundles up Mariko and throws on his own coat and heads next door. He’s sick of being patient. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Haru when he surprises him at Sucre, and really, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is he sees him. All that matters is he reminds Haru that he’s still here.

 

Makoto has only been to Sucre a couple of times, but something about that sweet bakery smell makes it familiar and welcoming all the same. He doesn’t know if its just the heavenly smell from the kitchen behind the counter or the promise of finally seeing Haru again. Probably, it’s a mix of both.

Mai spots him right away and excitedly waves him over, and Makoto feels the weight on his chest lifting. For all her quirks, Makoto still likes her. Not to mention that any friend of Haru’s is a friend of his.

“Hi baby! And Macchan too! What brings you lovelies in today?” Makoto returns her smile easily. Even her habit of flattery is comfortable to him.

“We came to visit,” he answers. She laughs and links her arm through his to escort him to a table. She takes a seat and Makoto politely sits opposite of her.

“Well, I’d say I must be doing _something_ right to get you to come visit me, and I am in fact doing _several_ things right, but I get the feeling there’s something else you wanted, isn’t there?” She smiles knowingly at him. She’s perceptive, and doesn’t beat around the bush. No wonder she can handle Haru so well.

“I was hoping I could ask for a favor,” he starts. Mai raises a delicate eyebrow and folds her hands on the table. Her nails are perfectly manicured in merlot.

“I know you’ve been needing him a lot lately but I was hoping I could borrow Haru for a while?” Mai blinks at him. Maybe she needs him at the cafe more than Makoto thinks.

“I wont keep him long, promise!” Makoto tries again. Mai blinks again and it’s like she’s seeing Makoto for the first time.

“Um, are you okay?” She shakes herself out of it, but the alarmed look stays on her face.

“Don’t misunderstand, I’d help a face like yours anyway I could. But I can’t give what I don’t have.” Makoto still doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?” Mai chews on her lip.

“He’s not here, hun. I haven’t seen him in days.” Blood roars in Makoto’s ears.

“He said.. he had work..” Mai swallows. She’s gone awfully pale.

“He told me the same thing. Work with _you_.”

Mariko babbles in the silence between them. The door chimes as someone leaves, and one of Mai’s employees says goodbye to them from behind the counter.

“Makoto, when was the last time you saw him?” Makoto wishes he hadn’t eaten breakfast because he feels like throwing up. She must be able to see it in his face, because the next second she has her phone up to her ear.

“He’s not answering,” she tells him. She hangs up a second later when it goes to voicemail.

 _“Merde._ Okay, I’ll call Kaori in to watch the cafe, you’ve had like, emergency training right? You know CPR and all that?”

“Mai, what’s going on?” Suddenly his lungs are too big for his ribs. His head screams at him to calm down, but his heart isn’t listening.

“This happened before, he just dropped off like this. We have to go to his apartment, I had to last time, I just need a minute.” She’s fidgety and looks as on the border to panic that Makoto feels. When she pushes her chair out to stand Makoto grabs her wrist.

“Mai, _please._ Tell me what’s happening.” Makoto doesn’t think he can take it if even Mai keeps him in the dark. She chews her lip and messes up her lipstick, and slides her chair back in. Makoto lets go of her wrist.

“Last time, he didn’t even try to make a cover. He just didn’t show up to work for a few days. I finally got fed up with it, so I stormed over to his apartment to yell at him or fire him or both. Makoto, he ended up in the hospital.” Makoto’s world spins.

“What happened?”

“He wasn’t skipping work or blowing me off… His door was unlocked, I let myself in and he was collapsed on the floor. He didn’t even realize I was there, he was so far gone. He couldn’t sit up on his own.”

Makoto had seen people like that before, but he’d never thought Haru would turn to..

“Drugs?” he whispers. Mai shakes her head fervently and Makoto feels only slightly better.

“No, nothing like that. He just.. stopped caring. Something set him off, and for a couple days, I think he gave up on _life.”_ Makoto feels light headed. Haru had nearly killed himself by neglect while Makoto had been happily living his life. Mai isn’t finished.

“He was malnourished and dehydrated, so he stayed in the hospital on fluids for a couple days. When he woke up the first time, I asked him if there was anyone I could call for him, and he just said there was no one left.” Mai has a hard time telling it, and Makoto has a hard time hearing it. The knife in his chest twists with her every word, but hearing that Haru thought he had no one rips the shredded bits of his heart right out of him.

“Makoto, if you had heard the way he said there was ‘no one left’..” Mai sniffs, fighting back tears. Makoto hugs Mariko close with one arm and holds Mai’s hand with the other. She laughs at the gesture and the tears spill over. Makoto was right to like her.

“I saw him three days ago,” he says quietly. Mai looks a little hopeful at that.

“It was over a week when I found him that time.” Relief isn’t a feeling Makoto is ready to allow himself, but it helps knowing that it hasn’t been as long.

“I’ll go find him,” he tells her. She wipes at her face with the heel of her hand and smiles weakly at him.

“You find him and you _make_ him understand he’s not alone,” she orders him. Makoto promises her and himself that he will.

 

He tries calling Haru’s phone as he loads Mariko back in the truck, be he doesn’t answer. The hair on the back of his neck stands when it goes to voicemail. He climbs in his seat and drives away in a daze. His head is spinning with terrible possibilities, but mostly he’s scared. He’s terrified of something like that happening to Haru, and equally terrified of Haru feeling like he’s so alone that he might as well just give up like that.

While he waits at a stop light, he dials Rin. He needs to talk to someone before he screams. Rin picks up and the light changes.

“What’s up Makoto?” Rin doesn’t sound upset or worried. He sounds like Rin, and it helps Makoto even his breathing out. He’d called with the intention of just talking about whatever until he makes it to Haru’s apartment, just to distract him from his own thoughts.

“Did you know Haru was in the hospital before he came back?” he blurts out instead.

“Shit, really?” Makoto swallows. “What for?”

“Malnourishment, dehydration,” each word drips out of his mouth and tastes foul. Those aren't words that should ever be used in the same breath as Haru. Rin swears creatively on the other end.

“I knew the bastard wasn’t taking care of himself but I had no idea it was that bad.. Shit, how are you doing with that news? That must be rough, especially since Macchan just got back from the doctors too.”

Makoto stomps on the brakes. If there had been anyone behind him, he would have caused an accident. Makoto’s world bottoms out, narrowing down and leaving him fighting for breath.

“Makoto? Are you okay?” Makoto can’t hear him. He pulls over and slams on the emergency brake. He swings in his seat until he’s facing Mariko, and she holds up her toy truck and bubbles at him. Safe and perfect, but Makoto had to check.

“Makoto?” Makoto inhales. He’s going to go grey before he hits forty.

“What do you mean Mariko just got back from the doctor?” Rin swears under his breath.

“Haru didn’t tell you.” It isn’t a question, it’s an accusation.

“No, he didn’t.” Makoto answers. Makoto brushes Mariko’s hair back and lets her hold his fingers with her hands.

“It wasn’t serious, she just had a cold,” Rin answers quickly. Makoto exhales.

“Rin, tell me everything that happened.” Rin sighs and tells him about getting a phone call in the middle of his mid-morning run, about Haru looking like he’s at his wits end when he and Sousuke showed up to take them to urgent care, and of course about Mariko and her fever.

“I _told_ Haru to tell you, but he didn’t want to worry you when there was nothing you could do about it.” Makoto laughs. He feels a little like he’s cleaning up an oil spill with tweezers.

“Honestly, he had it handled. I don’t know why he was so freaked out over it.” Rin is trying to make him feel better, he knows. Unfortunately, Makoto also knows that means Haru was probably more panicked than either of them are letting on. Mariko, happy and healthy and unaware, vrooms her toy truck across his palm impatiently.

“Thank you for being there, for both of them.” Although he still wishes it had been him.

“Yeah.. Listen, want me to kick his ass?” Makoto laughs sincerely this time.

“No, let me handle it. I’m going to his place now.”

“Offer stands. Text me later.” _Let me know if he’s okay._

“I will. Bye Rin.” The line dies and Makoto lets his hand fall into his lap.

“You’re okay, right Macchan?” She bounces at her name. Of course she is, Haru wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He starts the truck back up and turns his blinker on to get back into traffic.

“You’re okay, I’m okay. Time to make sure Haru is okay too.”

 

The next thing he knows, he’s parking outside Haru’s building, and every strand of his body is tense. He isn’t sure if he should bring Mariko inside with him, isn’t sure what he’s going to find inside, but he can’t very well leave her alone.

“You might get to see daddy break down a door today Macchan,” he tells her. She doesn’t seem bothered by it.

He bounds up the stairs two at a time, unburdened by the minimal extra weight of carrying Mariko or the snow falling demurely outside. He’s wound as tight as a spring. He’s terrified of what’s behind the door on the corner.

He doesn’t knock, he pounds. His fist is a hammer and his voice a bullhorn. He yells for Haru by name and it competes with the thunder of his hand. He’s lucky it isn’t night, or he’d surely wake neighbors. He stops and counts to ten, and braces himself to knock the door in. Before he can go through with it, he remembers Mai saying the door had been open when she came. It’s a long shot, but Makoto takes it. He tries the door knob.

Haru’s door swings open passively. It’s eerily quiet inside Haru’s apartment, possessing the same stillness churches and libraries always seem to exude. Even Mariko senses it and goes respectfully quiet. Haru’s shoes are inside, his coat tossed on the floor and his unpacked bag dropped not far from it. Makoto closes the door behind him and turns on a light.

His heart beats in his ears. He moves in slow motion towards Haru’s open bedroom door, tempo of his heart beating faster and faster until he finds the bedroom light switch on the wall and hits it.

Haru’s here, sprawled face down on his bed with headphones in. Makoto feels something twist inside him at the sight. He’s breathing, Makoto can see his back rising and falling, but something seems unnaturally still about him. Makoto touches his phone to turn the music off, but the battery is dead.

“Haru?” He touches haru’s back and Haru stirs beneath him. He turns his head towards Makoto and cracks an eye open. For a minute nothing happens and Makoto fears he’s too late.

     “-koto?” Haru’s voice is rough and unused. But he recognizes him and has the strength to look confused and a little distraught as he sits up. Makoto could weep.

“I’m here,” he helps Haru sit and realizes he’s wearing the same clothes he was the last time Makoto had seen him. Blue jumper, sandy jeans. Mariko squeals and Haru’s eyes fly open and to her, realizing she’s here too for the first time.

“Saba!” she demands. Makoto deposits her in Haru’s lap and sits on the bed next to him in one movement. Haru hugs her tight and buries his face in her hair, eyes closed. He looks like he could blow away with a breeze if it weren’t for Mariko weighing him down. Makoto looks away to give them a moment. Haru’s phone cord is hanging limply by the side of the bed, so Makoto leans over and connects it.

Haru holds onto her for longer than she’s willing to sit for, and Makoto watches as she paps his face to get him to release her. He loosens his grip, and she shows him her little truck. He takes it from her gently when she holds it out for him, and she laughs like she’s taught him a great trick. Makoto smiles watching them and lets his fears leave him like ice in spring.

He scoots back until his back is against the wall, his shoulders touching Haru’s. Haru gives Mariko her truck back and she crawls off him and over Makoto to plant herself on Haru’s pillows and make truck sounds. Makoto looks back to Haru and Haru looks away. Makoto lifts his arm and Haru takes the invitation and curls up against him. Makoto tilts his head until he finds Haru and kisses his messy hair.

He probably doesn’t need a hospital, but Haru clearly isn’t okay. “What can I do to help?”

“...You’re already doing it. Just let me stay like this for a while.” Makoto pulls him into his lap and Haru doesn’t resist, just shifts against him until he’s comfortable. Makoto soothes his hair back with one hand and holds him with the other. Mariko drives her truck up Haru’s leg.

Makoto keeps petting his hair and kissing the top of his head until he feels Haru sigh and shudder against him. Haru unwinds and wraps his arms around as much of Makoto as he can reach and stretches up to kiss his chin before burrowing back down against his chest. Makoto holds him tight and lets him work it out. The kind of wound Haru is struggling with can’t be bandaged or stitched. Makoto can’t fight his demons for him.

All he can do is try to lend some light.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have never left you alone.” Haru breathes in a rattling breath against him, just short of shaking. “I talked to Rin. And Mai.” Haru nods, a hopeless man accepting his fate.

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it,” he says. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”

Makoto shushes him. “I’m not.” Haru doesn’t answer him. Makoto carefully unwraps himself until he can take Haru’s face in both hands and tilt it up towards his.

“Haru, I’m _happy_ to be here for you. I always have been, and always will be.” Up close, Makoto can see the bags under Haru’s red rimmed eyes. Haru blinks sluggishly at him, and for a second Makoto thinks he isn’t getting through to him after all. Something crashes in his face and Haru’s eyes go big and wet.

Makoto doesn’t know what to do, so he kisses him. Lips first, chaste but sure, then forehead, even as hot tears start to fall down Haru’s face. Makoto drags him back into a hug and plants his face in Haru’s hair. Except for the sound of labored breathing, Haru hardly makes a sound as he soaks the front of Makoto’s shirt. Makoto rubs his back and blinks back his own tears, determined to not let them fall.

“You scared the hell out of me Haru,” he confesses. He feels Haru’s grip on his arm tighten. “When you stopped answering me I thought.. I thought I was pushing you, so I let you have your space. I thought maybe that’s what drove you away last time..” Haru jerks in his arms.

“No-” Makoto smiles at him. He knows. He knew the moment he’d come in and Haru opened his eyes. Makoto runs a thumb under Haru’s eye, wiping it dry.

“We’re supposed to talk to each other, remember?” Haru swallows and closes his eyes. “Despite popular opinion.. I can’t tell what you’re thinking, not really.”

“That’s not- I wasn’t _leaving._ Makoto, I would never-” he chokes, words difficult to dredge up. Makoto rubs his back soothingly. Haru’s words were balm on wounds he didn’t know had yet to heal. He didn’t realize how badly he needed to hear those words until they came out of Haru’s mouth. He isn’t going anywhere. They can handle anything else together. Relief is making itself comfortable within Makoto, and he only hopes it’s here to stay.

“Why didn’t you tell me Macchan was sick?” he says, careful to keep any kind of accusation or hurt out of it. Mariko was perfectly fine, exploring with her truck all over Haru’s pillow and headboard, so it’s clear Haru took care of her just as well as anyone. Makoto isn’t mad, just curious.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he says. Makoto nods against his hair.

“Mm, that’s what Rin told me. But there’s more to it, isn’t there?” Haru looks at him suspiciously. His face is still a little soggy though, so it loses some of it’s bite. Makoto bites his lip so he doesn’t laugh.

“I. Didn’t handle it well,” he admits, eyes downcast. “At all. I didn’t know what to do, and she kept crying for you. Rin only knows because I asked him to take us to the doctor’s..” Haru loses steam, so Makoto gives him a moment before encouraging him.

“Calling Rin was a good choice. Him and Sousuke came?” Haru’s face screws up but he nods anyway. “So you went to Yanaka-sensei, and he must have said it wasn’t that bad, since she was totally fine by the time I came home.” Makoto surmises. Haru watches Mariko play as he does it, and when she looks at him he lifts his arms open and she flops into them.

He sits with her, letting her drive the truck up his arm with a distant look on his face. “We went shopping before she got sick, and everyone kept assuming I was her father. Then when the nurse asked if I was I- I-”

“What did you tell them Haru?”

Haru looks miserable. “That I was just her babysitter.” He tears his eyes away from Mariko to look searchingly back at Makoto, like he holds the answer to a question Haru has been wrestling with for days. Makoto hopes he does.

“Why does that hurt so much?” He sounds lost.

“Oh _Haru.”_

It’s too much. It’s all too much. What a fool Makoto had been to think he stood a chance against Nanase Haruka. He doesn’t care if it’s rushing or inappropriate or demanding or desperate sounding or any of the other myriad things he’d convinced himself of over the last week. In the end, he says the words he’s been wanting to say to Haru since he walked in the door, since Haru had been waiting for him at the train station, since he’d watched the light come back into Haru’s eyes in his pool, since the first time he kissed him on the back of his bike, since Mariko papped his face and Makoto could see Haru fall for her.

Since as long as he could remember. They fall from his lips, at once so full of purpose and completely by accident. It surprises them both, and they blink together as they float in the air and pop like soap bubbles.

No taking it back now. Makoto doesn’t want to anyway. He doesn’t care if it will hurt himself in the end, Haru needs to know.

“Haru, I love you.”

Haru sucks in a ragged breath and his eyes blow wide. His mouth hangs slightly open as he tries to process what Makoto had just said. Makoto has no problem repeating it.

“I’m not expecting anything, you don’t have to say anything. I love you. I really hope you don’t mind.” Color returns to Haru then, and it paints his cheeks in rosy pinks. Makoto loves that too. He’s in disbelief, or maybe shock, so Makoto leans them all to the side so he can reach Haru’s phone. They’d talked long enough that it’s regained enough battery for what he wants to do.

He unlocks the screen to a window full of messages and missed calls- the vast majority from himself. He clears them out of the way and goes to messages, looking for a specific one he’d sent Haru days ago.

He finds it and turns up the volume before giving Haru his phone back. He takes it mutely, and Makoto hits play. Makoto’s grainy bedroom appears out of the black screen, followed by his own sleepy bedheaded face. He took the video from his bed, where he can hear Mariko yelling, or rather, _chanting,_ for _saba, saba, sa-ba!_

On screen Makoto smiles patiently. “No sleep tonight I guess,” he says, but even to his own ears he sounds resigned to it. “We miss you-” Anything else Makoto was going to say is cut off by a frustrated yell, and Makoto sighs and smiles tiredly just as the camera cuts off.

Haru still hasn’t said anything, but his knuckles are white around his phone. Makoto doesn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t the first time she’s screamed for him when he wasn’t there during the day or to put her to bed with him.  

“She loves you too,” Makoto says quietly. “You’ve never been _just_ a babysitter.” Haru presses the phone against his forehead, like he wants to burn that into his brain. He’s trembling, so Makoto hugs him tighter.

“I thought. I didn’t think I was important. Or needed. To her but.. especially to you. Not since I.. abandoned you..” It’s as close as Haru’s come to talking about it, and Makoto isn’t sure if he’s ready for that talk.

“Haru.. Tell me what happened when we were in college. If you can,” he adds after a thought. If Haru tells him he can’t talk about it yet, Makoto will drop it, and he’s a little ashamed to hope for that. Haru swallows, once, twice. He’s building himself up for it.

“It’s okay Haru, I already forgave you for all of it. I just want to understand,”

“I didn’t want to drag you down. Or disappoint you.” Haru says quickly. Makoto didn’t expect a real answer, and he sits in stunned silence while Haru continues.

“I ...never really found a dream. Not for me. I got so caught up in everyone else’s feelings for the future and then Rin took me to Australia and I thought, ‘this is it, this is what I’ve been looking for’. But I was wrong.

Swimming in a university was totally different from swimming in high school. It wasn’t just harder, it was.. soulless. It was _work._ And everyone had such high expectations, you wouldn’t _believe_ the pressure the coach and the team put on me.”

“You never told me any of this,” Makoto can’t help but be hurt. Back then, they’d still been friends. Best friends. Friends that, he thought, could share anything. Haru looks at him imploringly.

“How could I? You loved school, even when it started killing you. You were all working towards your dreams, I was just.. working.” Haru pets Mariko’s hair idly. She’s falling asleep in his arms, but Makoto thinks she’s helping him more than either of them realize. He hasn’t heard Haru speak this much in years.

It’s clearly taken it’s toll. Haru sits against him mutely, looking drained. Makoto realizes he’s waiting for him to speak and lead him from here. His arms have gone a little slack around Haru, so he pulls him back in tight. Makoto’s starting to understand, but he’s still missing pieces. Haru nuzzles between him and Mariko, taking comfort from both of them.

“If you wanted to quit the swim team, you could have without…” quitting _me_ , he thinks, but Makoto can’t say it. Haru knows anyway. He hesitates this time, but Makoto gets the feeling he’s chewing over his words more than avoiding the question.

He doesn’t want to force Haru to talk about something painful, but he feels like if he doesn’t, and doesn’t _now_ , that he’ll lose the chance and never know. He mimics Haru and pets his hair like he’s doing to Mariko and takes a moment to try and think of it from Haru’s point of view.

He tries to think of all his friends full of purpose while he loses his. He tries to think of a swim coach getting increasingly strict and demanding. He adds it on top of school and pretends its something he’s got little interest in. Then he adds being in a strange and loud city like Tokyo, cut off from most of his friends and family, where nothing is familiar or safe.

He tries to remember what he’d been like, had he been a good friend back then? He remembers coming to study with Haru whenever he had a free moment between class and study groups and clubs and his part time job. He’d bring food, Haru would cook, they’d study and he’d go home. Sometimes it’d be swapped, at his place instead of Haru’s. Sometimes Makoto would crash for the night and sleep on Haru’s floor. He thought he’d done everything he could to protect the friendship they had.

But he’d been busy. They both had. Sometimes they went days without seeing each other, sometimes weeks. So add an unsteady friendship to everything else. It must have been suffocating.

“You just wanted to be free,” Makoto says, understanding blooming across his face. Haru gets impossibly closer.

“I wanted _you_ to be free, too.” It’s whispered like a prayer. Makoto would have never in a hundred years thought of Haru as a burden. But after failing himself and floundering, Makoto thinks he can see how Haru might have thought he was.

He wants to tell him he wishes Haru had told him earlier, years ago. They could have worked through it, Makoto could have helped him, maybe. But that wouldn’t be fair to Haru, and there’s no point in dwelling over it now.

“Thank you for telling me, I know that wasn’t easy.” Haru sighs against him, deflated. Makoto lets him lean on him and rests his chin on his head. They sit and listen to each other breathe, both of them just happy to understand each other again. Makoto can hear Haru’s sink drip from the other room in the quiet, sharp metallic tinks equally spaced apart. He wonders if he could fix it. It’s not the only thing Makoto wonders about fixing. It’s always worth a try.

After a minute, an hour, Makoto nudges him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Makoto suspects Haru had been on the verge of sleep, but he blinks up at his words. “I’m taking you home.”

 

Haru doesn’t have a choice after that. Makoto isn’t exactly pushy, but he gathers up Haru’s phone and his still packed bag from the entry and has Haru’s coat by the time it takes Haru to get unsteadily to his feet. Makoto holds his coat open for him and looks ready to button it up for him too. Haru waves him off, stubborn.

Makoto carries his bag and Mariko, and eyes Haru over like he’s considering carrying him too. Haru stumbles a little when he stomps past him. Makoto probably could carry them all, and its as annoying as it is secretly almost appealing. He slips into his shoes and lets Makoto crowd him out of his door. Outside, when Makoto holds out his hand, Haru hands him his keys to lock the door without a word.

Makoto takes his hand and leads him down the stairs. He doesn’t let go of him until he’s helped Haru up into the truck. Haru uses the minute it takes him to strap Mariko into the car seat to do a quick personal inventory. He looks awful, which is to say, he looks like the truth. Since he made it back to his apartment, he’d barely moved, hardly slept, and can’t remember eating past the first day. His hair is clumped and greasy, his face sallow and shadowed. His eyes meet Makoto’s in the side mirror he’d been looking in, and Makoto smiles gently at him, unbothered by any of it.

He’s beginning to grasp that he’s been waiting for the hammer to drop this entire time. Ever since he’d forced his way back in Makoto’s life, he’s been holding his breath, waiting for Makoto to kick him back out. Some part of him has been waiting for Makoto to judge him, and find him lacking.

But Makoto had come for him. Even when Haru couldn’t do a thing for him, Makoto had come to save him, looking pale and painfully worried. Even when Haru felt like he should have been nothing to him, Makoto kept looking at him like he was everything.

_“Haru, I love you.”_

Makoto starts the truck. Haru is careful not to look at him. His insides are doing strange things, and if he looked at Makoto right now, he isn’t sure what he’d do. Despite the snow, he’s warm for the first time in days, and all the way to the tips of his ears. Makoto grabs his hand without looking away from the road. He acts normal, seemingly unaffected by confessing to Haru. It’s annoying, but it suits him. He seems unaffected because he probably is. It came from him naturally, easily. Emotions are comfortable with him, while Haru..

Haru doesn’t know anymore. He’s spent the last.. however many days it’s been, feeling shitty and confused and hopeless until Makoto had come for him. Haru feels like he’s in a dream. Makoto loves him. Makoto listened as Haru let a bit of his heart bleed out, and he’s still here, holding his hand and taking him back to his home.  Haru didn’t even have the grace to answer him, too stunned to even _begin_ to think of how to answer him.

Makoto squeezes his hand. He isn’t letting go. Maybe Haru isn’t dreaming, maybe he’s already in the afterlife. Their talk had expended all the energy Haru had to spare, but he can’t help but feel light and content. Makoto loves him. He can’t even find embarrassment for everything he spewed, or Makoto finding him in such a pitiful state. Makoto loves him. At the next stop he clicks his seat belt off and slides over into the middle seat. He loops his arm through Makoto’s and leans his head on his shoulder and is rewarded with a kiss.

 

Back at Makoto’s house, Makoto sets Mariko up with a few of her toys in her crib and drags Haru up into his bathroom. Haru lets him help him out of his clothes, but Makoto doesn’t stop there. He strips down to his underwear with Haru, and Haru’s head works too slowly for him to figure it out.

“Let me,” he says leading him towards the shower head. “Please.” Haru can only nod. Makoto turns the water on and fiddles with the temperature, and soon Haru is sitting naked while Makoto runs warm water over him, soothing aches he didn’t realize he had. Makoto tips his head back to soak his hair and Haru closes his eyes. The sound of the shampoo uncapping is the only intermission before Makoto’s hands are back, rubbing and massaging shampoo into his scalp.

Haru sighs into it. Makoto takes his time, doing it more for Haru’s benefit than out of any real concern for his hair. Haru could let him do this for hours. Makoto laughs fondly under his breath when Haru leans into the touch.

He rinses Haru’s hair and hands Haru the body wash while he works on conditioner. Haru had nearly forgotten what they were doing, but he manages to scrub himself while Makoto hums quietly and repeats the process with conditioner. Makoto holds his hand out, and Haru returns the body wash. Makoto washes his back for him just as tenderly.

By the time Makoto helps a clean Haru sink into the tub, Haru feels like years have lifted off him. He looks up at Makoto, still standing, and nods his head towards the tub. It would be tight, but they could _probably_ make it work. Makoto catches on and smiles broadly at him.

“Not tonight Haru, that bath is all yours.” Haru frowns. Makoto kneels down next to him and kisses it away. Haru can’t fight against that. Makoto feathers another kiss on him and starts to stand, so Haru grabs him by his ears before he can go.

Makoto blinks at him and Haru pulls him in for a real, proper kiss. He wants to thank him, for the bath, for everything, but he doesn’t know how. But even more than that, Haru wants to kiss Makoto until neither of them can breathe.

Makoto relaxes against him. Haru coaxes his mouth open, then loses his nerve when he remembers it’s been days since he’s brushed his teeth. Makoto wraps a hand around one of Haru’s still holding his face. He deepens the kiss on his own as if to prove that that didn’t matter to him. Haru slides his tongue against Makoto’s and feels his eyes flutter shut. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, pleased and content. He changes his mind. Rather than having Makoto wash his hair for hours, he wants Makoto to kiss him like this for hours.

Eventually, Makoto pulls them apart. Haru feels hot all over, and he’s convinced the steam filling the room isn’t entirely from his bath. Makoto gently pries Haru’s hands off his face and kisses down Haru’s wrists.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says. Haru sinks a little lower into the water, proof he has no plans of leaving anytime soon. Makoto smiles and leaves, closing the door back behind him to keep the warmth in the room.

Honestly, Haru could have left it open. He could probably use a cooling off. He touches his lips, still fresh with the memory of Makoto’s against them. He rests his head back against the porcelain and closes his eyes, letting just the ghost of a smile linger on his face.

Makoto keeps his word and comes back long before the water starts to cool. He comes in wearing sweats and presumably dry underwear underneath, carrying a tray that smells amazing. Haru’s stomach growls obediently for it as Makoto hooks the bath stool with an ankle and drags it to the side of the tub.

“Breakfast?” Haru asks. It was late afternoon, if not already evening, but Haru hasn’t been great at keeping the time recently. Makoto smiles apologetically at him.

He shrugs. “It’s all I really know how to cook that doesn’t feed thirty,” he says. Haru gapes.

“Why on earth would you need to feed thirty people?” Makoto hands him a glass of ice water and Haru gulps it greedily. The cold water down his throat is a beautiful contrast to the almost too hot of his bath.

“At the station. We take turns with kitchen duty.” Haru blinks at him doubtfully. Makoto laughs and stands back up.

“Don’t give me that look, we work in pairs. I’m not going to accidentally poison the entire fire station, don’t worry.” Haru doesn’t think he’d poison them, not necessarily, but he still feels better knowing Makoto cooks with the buddy system.

Makoto sits back down with a wet wash cloth, and he plops it on Haru’s head before taking his water and trading it for a bowl of oatmeal. The wash cloth is cold too, and it makes the temperature perfect.

“Cooking for that many must be rough,” he says. Makoto winces.

“Let’s just say I’m awfully good at peeling potatoes by now.” Haru snorts into his food. Makoto watches him quietly, eyes warm. It would have bothered Haru before, but he understands now. He doesn’t ever want Makoto’s eyes to lose that.

They fall back into place with each other, Haru cleans his bowl, and then a second, while Makoto nibbles on toast and catches him up on Mariko over the last few days. She’d been at his parents instead of with Haru, and instead of making Haru feel guilty for it, Makoto tells him how happy his parents were to finally get a turn with her again. He didn’t realize he’d taken over watching her so completely. He decides he’ll have to take her out to visit more often, because he isn’t ready to give her back entirely.

Once he’s finished eating and the water has gone tepid, Makoto pulls him out of it and wraps him in a fresh towel. It smells pleasantly like Makoto’s laundry detergent, so Haru stands diligently while Makoto towels off his hair. It isn’t until he starts on Haru’s shoulders that he snaps out of it and gingerly takes the towel from Makoto. Makoto leans in to kiss him again, then takes the tray back downstairs to give Haru some privacy.

Not that it matters, Haru thinks. He’d been naked pretty much since he’d gotten to Makoto’s house, and Makoto’s seen him naked on more than one occasion by now too. He’s not embarrassed, that’s not the right word for it. He dries himself off and tries to put his finger on it.

Makoto comes back to his room and Haru’s already slipped back into his underwear and a pajama shirt, assuming that they aren’t going anywhere. Makoto is still only in his sweats, so he thinks it’s a safe enough assumption. Makoto runs a hand through his hair and makes him sit on the edge of the bed so he can blow dry it.

Haru can’t remember the last time he’s been doted on like this. He’s so used to being the only one to take care of him, it’s almost an out of body experience to just let someone else do it. He’s not as uncomfortable as he thought he’d be, but he does feel a little like a show dog being groomed for competition.

Once Makoto deems him dry, they move downstairs. It’s still too early for bed, so they take Mariko and her toys, blocks this time, down to the living room and turn on a movie that neither of them watch.

It’s peaceful. Easy. Haru builds a tower for Mariko to knock down and wonders how he ever struggled with the idea of watching her. _She loves you too,_ Makoto had said so himself. Makoto finds blankets and drapes one over Haru then taps something out on his phone and sets it face down with a finality that makes Haru arch an eyebrow at him curiously. Makoto smiles and scoots himself next to him.

“I told him not to but Rin says to expect an ass kicking,” Makoto kisses his forehead and steals a corner of Haru’s blanket. Haru scoffs.

“Rin is all talk.” He hopes. Mariko topples his newest tower and rolls onto her back laughing.

“Win!” she says. Haru looks at Makoto. Makoto looks at Haru. Haru recovers first.

“Was that..?” Makoto bites his lip and tries not to laugh.

“Macchan, did you mean Rin? Uncle Rin?” he tries. She slaps at his knee.

“Win!” Makoto and Haru stare at each other in a disbelieving silence for only a moment before Makoto breaks and starts laughing. Mariko laughs with him, and he drags her over to them to hug her.

“No doubt about it, she’s finally learned his name. Sorta,” Makoto says. Haru tries to keep a straight face.

“I like it better that way,” he says. Makoto shakes his head. “He’s gonna love it.”

“Does she know any others?” Haru asks, thought suddenly occurring to him that he has no idea how much her vocabulary has grown. Makoto grins at him.

“Lets find out.”

 

An hour and an entire photobook later and they’ve decided she’s actually named quite a few people. Haru suspects she’s had the names for a while and just hasn’t felt like letting them know yet. Makoto looks totally enamoured with her either way. It radiates off him, but Haru thinks a little is probably coming off of him, too. Every time they point to a picture of someone she knows and she yells out a name, _win_ or _shuke_ or _baba_ , he feels a fierce spike of pride all his own.

Makoto turns her towards Haru. “Saba!” Haru turns her back to Makoto. “Dadda!” she yells each gleefully, excited to be rewarded with hugs and Makoto occasionally tossing her up in the air and catching her. Haru is more than a little smug that his and Makoto’s names are the ones she’s best at.

After the photos Makoto gets one of her books out to read to her. He ends up reading to Haru too, and Haru alternates from rolling his eyes to biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud at some of the voices Makoto makes for the characters. Mariko interrupts every page to touch the pictures or babble her own additions to the story, but Makoto plays along. When he reaches the last page instead of fussing over it being over, Mariko simply takes the book out of his hands and throws it down on the rug before crawling after it.

“I guess we’re done with that,” Makoto tells him. Haru snorts.

“You ever getting that book back?” Mariko is sitting on it and trying to pick it up at the same time. Makoto shrugs.

“Maybe. You hungry?” Haru isn’t. Neither is Makoto, but he gets up and heads to the kitchen anyway. Haru leans down and slides the book out from under her and Mariko watches him with wide impressed eyes.

 _“Saba,”_ she accuses. He pats her head. “It’s a secret.” She takes the book from him and starts piling blocks on it, clearly on a mission.

Makoto comes back and returns to his seat under Haru’s blanket. He puts something cold and heavy in Haru’s hands and feels around for the remote so he can turn it to some nature show.

“You eat ice cream right out of the tub?” Haru asks, skeptical. Makoto grins and hands him a spoon.

“Days like this I do. You do too, actually.”

Turns out, Haru does.

 

They linger in the living room, eat half a carton of ice cream and watch two documentaries, one on volcanoes and one on cats. Mariko makes entire cities with her blocks, but always has the most fun growling and snarling and knocking them down.

“Is she pretending to be a monster?” Haru asks Makoto between bites of rich chocolate fudge ice cream. Makoto shrugs, passing him the spoon back after he takes a mouthful for himself.

“She’s whatever she wants to be.” Haru licks ice cream off the spoon and leans against him. Mariko becomes human again in time to crawl back into their laps to watch the second half of the cat documentary with them, but the monotone of the narrator puts her to sleep before they get to the end.

Makoto carries her to bed and Haru puts whats left of the ice cream back in the freezer. Haru grabs them both water before heading back up. It’s a routine he can’t remember forming, but Makoto takes his glass from him like he’d expected Haru would bring him one and sets it on his nightstand. Somehow, they already even have claimed sides of the bed, though they’ve certainly never discussed it.

Haru’s toothbrush is still sitting on Makoto’s counter. When he brushes his teeth, Makoto joins him. They stand side by side over the sink. It isn’t routine, Haru thinks. It’s an understanding. Even after all this time, they don’t have to discuss every little thing, or even talk at all about some things, because they can still understand each other. He watches Makoto lazily brush his hair out of the corner of his eye and can’t believe how lucky he is. Out of the whole world, he found the one person who can understand him like it’s second nature.

Makoto catches him looking and smiles a lopsided smile, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He’s perfect, even with toothpaste foam dribbling down his chin. _“Haru, I love you.”_ Haru rinses the little bathroom cup and hands it to him. His insides are doing that _thing_ again. Makoto finishes and touches the small of Haru’s back to direct him back to bed. Haru hadn’t even realized he’d been just standing there waiting for him.

As soon as they’re in bed, they both reach for each other. There’s a little maneuvering involved to get both of them comfortable, but in the end Makoto rolls them until Haru is all but on top of him. Haru thinks its probably so Makoto can keep his arms around him, but he isn’t about to complain. He can listen to Makoto’s heartbeat like this, and has less of a chance of being smothered in the night if he’s on top.

Makoto clicks his lamp off, kisses his head and tells him goodnight. Haru mumbles it back to him. Already, the steady drum of Makoto’s heart is lulling him to sleep. It’s impossible to know how much he’s slept over the last few days, but even though he’s hardly left his bed, he’d been restless and insomniac. Here he’s safe and content, and sleep is a sparkly lure he’s quickly falling prey to.

He peeks through his bangs at what he can see of Makoto’s face. He’s as relaxed as Haru, eyes closed and breathing already deepening as he approaches sleep himself. He meant it when he told Haru he wasn’t expecting anything back. He loves Haru, no holds barred.

Haru doesn’t think he can say it. Not yet. He wants to, he just doesn’t think he can. He’s sure he’ll choke. Makoto has waited for him this long, Haru is sure he could wait a little longer for Haru to pull himself together enough to say it. He should just let it go and go to sleep. But there’s something he’s been curious about, and it might show a little of what he can’t say yet.

“Hey, Makoto?”

“Mm?”

“Can you teach me that thing you did?” Makoto cracks an eye at that.

“What thing?” He yawns, drowsy. Haru shifts until he’s straddling Makoto’s thighs.

He has Makoto’s full attention when he licks his lips and looks at Makoto’s crotch to answer quietly, “That _thing.”_ Makoto’s mouth opens and closes. Haru can watch him swallow.

“Like you did to me. On the table.” He’s glad its dark enough Makoto can’t see how badly he’s blushing.

Makoto’s voice is a little higher and quicker than usual when he answers him. _“Oh_. You really don’t have to- I mean you’ve never.. No, no really, it’s okay.” For some reason, Makoto stumbling makes Haru more confident, even though he really doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.

“Teach me,” he says. His hands are flat on Makoto’s thighs, holding him in place. Makoto swallows again, looking cornered. Haru knows he has the upper-hand, and it helps him boldly crawl up Makoto’s body until he’s sitting on his lap, and _grind._ Makoto shudders out a breath, and Haru leans in quick enough to suck the last of it off his lips. Makoto looks stunned at his forwardness, and for a second Haru thinks he’s misread him.

Then Makoto’s hands are in his hair, pulling him back down so Makoto can kiss him. Makoto licks into his mouth and Haru catches his lip between his teeth. He practically purrs into it. It feels like its been a lifetime since he’s been able to do this.   

Makoto must feel the same, because he takes his time with him. He works Haru’s mouth like an instrument, and Haru gets the feeling he’s being savored, somehow. Makoto moves his hands down Haru’s back until they can sneak up under the hem of his shirt and skim over his skin, and Haru hisses against him. It’s completely different from when Makoto had bathed him earlier. Haru can feel the _intent_ burn in the trails Makoto’s fingertips leave across his spine.

Just kissing, although it’s hard to call it _just_ kissing when it’s Makoto, is enough to make Haru’s lower half uncomfortable. He rolls his hips experimentally, and from the way Makoto’s breath hitches Haru knows it’s the same for Makoto. He does it again, pleased at the way Makoto is growing beneath him. The third time he undulates his hips against him Makoto presses his hands into Haru’s thighs to still him.

“Okay, alright, I give up,” he says. Haru can see his goofy smile in the dark of the room, but he’s more preoccupied on the growing heat in Makoto’s boxers. When he reaches out to free him Makoto makes a sound like a squeak and shoots out to grab Haru’s wrist before he can.

“Ah wait a minute!” Haru glares at him and shakes his wrist free. Makoto lets him go and holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying we have to stop just- just don’t push yourself, okay?” Haru relaxes and lays back over him to kiss him again. He’s decided he likes kissing more than talking.

Makoto opens their mouths together with his and whispers, “Like this, be careful of your teeth.” Haru slides his tongue in Makoto’s mouth, feeling how Makoto’s covered his teeth with his tongue and lips. It makes the base of his spine tighten in anticipation. Makoto breaks and goes back to kissing him like normal.

“I’ll tell you when I’m close so you can pull off,” he says. Haru nips him.

“What if I don’t want to?” Haru wouldn’t have thought Makoto would have been able to pull off a petulant whine with their dicks rubbing against each other through their underwear like this, but he manages it somehow. _“Haruu,_ if you’ve never had someone do that.. It takes some getting used to, you don’t just _start_ with swallowing okay? I don’t want you to choke.” Even saying something filthy sounds kind of cute when he whines like that.

Haru grinds them together and Makoto gasps. “Haru! Just go slow for now, please, I don’t want to hurt you” Haru considers. Makoto isn’t overestimating himself, Haru has no doubt that he could probably pretty easily hurt him with that _thing_ straining against his boxers. But Haru’s never been afraid of Makoto before, and he isn’t starting now.

“..Alright, I understand,” he says and watches Makoto relax in relief. He rather likes being able to see everything about Makoto while he’s perched on top of him like this. But he’ll have to save that for another night, because tonight he wants to taste.

He hooks a finger in Makoto’s waistband and Makoto obliges by lifting his hips off the bed so Haru can roll his underwear down and off. He doesn’t have a problem lifting himself and Haru on top of him, and Haru files that away for later consideration.

He takes a second to sit back and appreciate the view of Makoto as the first naked one for once. Something a little like excitement but not as innocent is bubbling up through his thighs and into his gut at the sight of Makoto supine and flushed below him. Makoto lays patiently, his eyes burning back into Haru with an unexpected calm. Instead of embarrassment from laying bare and exposed before him, Makoto watches for Haru’s next move with an intensity that unfairly makes Haru feel like the vulnerable one.

 _He can see right through me._ It’s comforting. If it’s like this, Makoto will understand everything about him. When they’re like this, Haru doesn’t have to be ashamed or worried, Makoto would understand. He runs his hands down Makoto’s chest only because he wants to. He doesn’t need an explanation or an excuse.

With Makoto, he probably never has. Haru locks eyes with him. He wants Makoto to be able to _see_ him like this for the rest of his life. Haru leans down to kiss him again when he can’t take it any longer. Makoto moans lightly when Haru’s hips grind against him, and Haru is hungry to swallow the sound down.

Any plans Haru had of teasing and exploring Makoto disappear when Makoto bucks his hips up against him, sending urgent jolts through his already damp underwear. It doesn’t take him long to remember that he’s supposed to be the impatient one, and his hands find Makoto’s cock on their own.

Makoto shudders out a breath and clenches his hands in the sheets, willing himself to be still and let Haru go at his own pace. Haru doesn’t notice. He’s preoccupied. He’s possibly going to be preoccupied for the rest of his life. Haru has never felt insecure or wanting, but now that he can take a closer look at what Makoto keeps, Haru can very nearly understand the need for lesser men to compensate. Flashy watches, lifted vehicles, high rise flats- nothing would ever make up for the real article. That Haru has to hold with _both_ hands.

“Haru, please stop staring at it,” Makoto whines. Haru nearly drops him.

“I’m not.” He was. He squeezes Makoto’s base to distract him, which works pretty well. He doesn’t know where to start, but he doesn’t want to get caught staring again either. A little sadly, he doesn’t think he’s going to fit into his mouth after all.

“Stop looking at me like a buffet Haru,” Makoto says. Haru’s still squeezing and stroking him, but he slows down so Makoto can catch his breath and explain. “You can use your hands too, it’s not like I expect you to deep throat me.” Haru wonders when Makoto talking like that won’t catch him so off guard.

“Be quiet,” he says. If Makoto keeps it up there’s no way Haru will be able to continue. Makoto opens his mouth and thinks better of it. Instead he lifts a hand out and brushes a stray strand of Haru’s hair out of his face. His hand lingers down Haru’s neck and it’s more intimate than anything else they’ve done today. Haru wonders how he keeps doing that, but Makoto only smiles back at him.    

Before he can over think it, Haru slides down and kisses the juncture where Makoto’s thighs become hips. Makoto makes a strangled sound, so Haru licks down it. He leans against him and Makoto shifts to make it easier. If Haru’s hand hadn’t still been wrapped around Makoto’s cock it might have hit him in the face.

Haru smiles against hot skin. That was probably the whole point. Haru moves south, pressing open mouthed kisses in as he goes. He’s enjoying the squirming from Makoto more than he expected he would. It was a new sort of pleasure to be the one doing this, different than having it done to him.

Haru likes it. And when he gets a strangled yelp from Makoto for licking the head, he likes that even more. He kisses the tip for luck, then wraps his lips around him, careful of his teeth like Makoto had shown him. Makoto shudders under him, but doesn’t move. He’s still letting Haru set the pace, though some of the sounds he makes when Haru sucks and licks makes it sound like it’s killing him to do so.

Haru props himself up so he can reach a free hand down between his legs. He understands how Makoto had gotten off just from doing this last time. He hisses a breath through his teeth when he finally touches himself, and it makes Makoto shiver in turn.

Haru presses back down with ambition. His mouth is stretched and full, but Makoto pants and moans somewhere above him and it’s more than worth it. It’s amazing, being able to be the one to do this to him. Makoto’s knuckles are white in his sheets, so Haru laces his fingers with one of them.

“H-Haru,” Makoto stutters. Haru squeezes his hand encouragingly, trying to tell him it’s okay. Haru dips his head back down on Makoto, in time to his own hand on himself. When he opens his eyes to look up at Makoto, Makoto is already looking at him. Haru can feel his cock twitch in his mouth. He’d smile if he wasn’t already occupied.

Tentatively, slowly enough that Haru could have stopped him a hundred times, Makoto stretches a hand out and into Haru’s hair. Whether he meant to pet it or brush it back or something else doesn’t matter, because Haru transfers his hand from Makoto’s back to his cock and slides it with his mouth, and Makoto’s gentle hand crushes in his hair and tugs.

Immediately he releases, and Haru hums around him, giving him permission. Makoto tugging his hair was.. _well._ He’d have to do it again just so Haru can be sure. Haru pushes himself back down, trying to take more and more with each bob of his head.

Both of Makoto’s hands end up in his hair. Haru’s so delighted by it that he takes another peek at Makoto’s face, but it’s thrown back against the pillows, mouth open and gasping. It’s not as good as seeing Makoto’s eyes, but it’s still good.

He’s _achingly_ hard. He’s drooling all over Makoto’s cock, and he’s never been harder in his life. He hits the back of his throat and tries to swallow on instinct, and Makoto whines.

Haru’s a fool. He should have asked to do this ages ago. Makoto tugs at him gently, rocking his hips just enough to get friction but not enough to choke Haru. Haru rewards him by pumping him faster. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep this up, his jaw is already getting sore.

“‘m close, Haru” Makoto says, but his hands are still in Haru’s hair and Haru doesn’t want him to let go. He pushes back down on him and lets Makoto thrust shallowly into him. Makoto whimpers. He must really be close.

 _“Haruka,”_ he moans. It’s like hearing it for the first time. It doesn’t sound girly or awkward like it normally does to him. It sounds right, like Makoto is the only person in the world who knows the right way to claim him. It catches Haru off guard, and he comes in his hand. Makoto pulls himself free a second later and just in time to shoot over Haru’s face instead of in his mouth. Haru knew it was coming, literally, but it’s still a surprise. He’s glad Makoto didn’t let him try and swallow on his first try. As it is, it’s everywhere on his face and chin.

Makoto recovers and makes Haru dizzy with how quickly he sits up to hold Haru’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to- I’ll get a towel, hang on a sec!” Haru considers, but he’s already sticking his tongue out to lick a bit off his lips. It tastes.. interesting, but the way the blood drains out of Makoto’s face and rushes back in high in his cheeks and around his ears is much more interesting. Despite his promises of a towel, Makoto is frozen in front of him.

Haru touches his face and his fingers come back pearly. He keeps Makoto’s eyes as he licks one clean. He moves onto the second finger before Makoto snaps out of it.

“You’re unbelievable,” he whispers. “I was really worried about you and you’re just messing with me.” Haru grins. He’ll be doing this again, definitely. He leans in to kiss the pout off Makoto’s lips, and Makoto doesn’t resist. Haru pushes him back into bed and leaves him looking mollified as he heads to the bathroom for a towel.

Haru catches himself in the mirror and doesn’t recognize the reflection, but in one of the best sort of way. Instead of looking like a hollow version of himself like usual, he’s practically glowing. He washes his face in the sink, but even after cleaning spots of Makoto’s come out of his hair, Haru’s reflection still grins back at him.

Makoto is still draped beautifully across his bed, boxers around one of his ankles. His head is tilted back again, eyes already closed. Everything about him says spent and satisfied. Haru lets himself feel a little smug at it. He finds his own underwear before tugging at Makoto’s, sure he’d rather sleep in them than without them.

Makoto groans at being bothered, but he wiggles around until he’s covered back up and pulls Haru back into bed with him. Haru tumbles down and lets Makoto manhandle him until they’re pressed back up against each other. Even though he’s about to fall asleep, Makoto makes sure to pepper kisses over his face before pulling the covers up and over them both.

Haru sighs against him, content as a cat. Haru listens to him breathe deep, his own limbs unwinding into liquid against Makoto’s body heat. It was safe here, and now that Haru’s accomplished his own personal mission, sleep is finally coming for him.

Haru is just on the verge between dreams and reality, already seeing simmering blue in the distance, when Makoto’s groggy voice cuts through the air and draws him abruptly back.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Haru blinks himself awake, but it doesn’t make it any clearer. He yawns when he asks “What?”

“Satomi cheated on me.”

Haru feels like he’s been dropped into ice. He bolts until he’s sitting up straight. Makoto isn’t looking at him, busy drawing distracted little circles on the back of Haru’s hand. Haru doesn’t understand, sure he’s heard him wrong. But then Makoto makes that self depreciating smile and Haru’s throat closes up.

“I was never enough for her,” he says sadly. _Bullshit_ Haru thinks, but his throat is too tight to squeeze the words out. “She cheated on me, and it still hurts, sometimes.” Haru is made of burning ice, everything inside him begging to wage war.

“I don’t know if she ever really loved me, and that terrifies me.” Makoto still won’t look at him. Haru is careful with him, afraid the quiver in his voice might grow. He takes Makoto’s hand in both of his and squeezes as hard as he dares.

Makoto finally looks at him, his eyes almost glassy. “Haru, I’m so sorry, I’ve been so afraid of being the only one.. I’ve never told anyone that part,” Makoto laughs, as if that was silly of him. Haru aches. He touches Makoto’s face and Makoto seems surprised when his fingers come back wet.

“I would never do that to you,” he says, just as quiet as Makoto, but he’s still burning. Makoto smiles at him, understanding this too.

“I know that Haru, that’s not what I meant,” Haru is glad he understands, because he doesn’t know how he’d prove it.

“I just mean.. Sorry for keeping my distance, I guess. But if this is still what you want..” Haru is sick of hearing Makoto so dispirited. It doesn’t suit him. “Want what?”

In a voice smaller than Makoto has ever been, he answers. “Me. _Us.”_ It makes Haru’s heart swell to compensate. There isn’t any doubt or hesitation when he speaks.

“Of course I do. Very much so.”  Makoto lets out a breath he’s probably been holding in for years. For as many uncertainties as Haru has, Makoto has a few of his own, buried deep inside him. It’ll be something that goes both ways, working to patch each others scars like this. Makoto looks back up at him, and his eyes are clear.

“Haru? I want that too. Very much so. I won’t leave you alone again, even if I have to break your door down.” Makoto says the last part like a joke, but it makes Haru’s heart clench anyway. Haru believes him.

“Promise me,” he says, urgent. Makoto blinks in surprise. Haru watches Makoto process and solve it in his head.

“Yeah. I promise. Thank you for waiting for me.” Haru scoffs.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?” Makoto hums noncommittally. He’s already settling back against his pillows, comforted by getting that off his chest. Haru puts himself back in his place on his side carefully, but Makoto only pulls him in closer.   

Haru watches him closely, alert for any signs of cracks in his surface, but Makoto seems fine now. Haru pets his hair, and Makoto leans into it. He’s out within minutes, but Haru stays awake.

Makoto had always been made of walls and self restraint, but not like this. He was a carefully crafted house of cards, but to protect others. He was so careful of stepping on toes, or taking up too much space. Even Haru hadn’t known about the second fortress, smaller and like iron around his own heart. Haru feels a little guilty that he’d never considered a Makoto who protected his own heart just as much as everyone else’s, but it makes sense.

But he’d let Haru into it just the same. Haru falls asleep listening to that steady beating heart, knowing it loves him with each thrum.

 

For the first time in a long time, Haru wakes up on his own. There’s no alarm clock yelling at him, no phone ringing, no emergency. He isn’t waking up because he’s cold or hungry, isn’t waking up because he just can’t sleep anymore.

He’s waking up in Makoto’s arms. They’ve moved around in the night, but it seems even for all their tangling, Makoto hadn’t let go of him. It’s got to be some stupidly early hour, if Haru is awake before Makoto, but Haru isn’t groggy or cranky. The quiet of the morning is its own sort of restful, and there’s a peace to being the only one awake in the house.

Carefully, he extricates himself. He stretches on his way to the bathroom, and yawns his way into Mariko’s room afterwards. She’s sleeping just as soundly as her father, so Haru pulls the blanket up to her chin and leaves her be. He returns to take his spot next to Makoto and finds his phone thoughtfully plugged in on the nightstand.

Haru takes it. He hasn’t actually looked at his phone in days. Makoto had cleared everything from him, but there’s still a few new messages anyway. A handful from Rin, ranging from I told you so to promises of his early demise next time they meet at the gym or pool to one message sent only a few hours ago asking if he’s okay, and to call him.

He’ll do it later. For now, he thumbs over to the chat log with Makoto. Looking back, he can see how awkwardly Makoto had been fighting himself, messaging him but trying not to be overbearing. The video of Mariko screaming for him is still there, and if it wouldn’t wake Makoto up Haru would play it again and again.

Makoto mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like Haru’s name and rolls over, searching for him. Haru smiles and scoots closer, until Makoto’s hand finds him and he goes still again. Haru brushes Makoto’s hair back fondly, watching him sleep.

Makoto was right. Without Haru even realizing it was happening, Haru had become important to him. To them. When Makoto told him he loved him, it wasn’t to placate him, it wasn’t out of pity. It was just the truth. Mariko loves him too, Makoto had said so himself. And it wasn’t like a friend.

It was like a family. It feels like taking the first breath after a dozen laps underwater. Just how long had he been trying to breathe from the bottom of the pool? How long had he been fooling himself into believing drowning was just as good as living out under the sun?

 _Family._ Haru’s only ever really seen it through Makoto, he shouldn’t really be surprised Makoto was showing him the way again. Something strong and protective is growing inside of him, and Haru understands that it’s probably all he’s ever really wanted was a family of his own.

It’s not as ambitious a dream as Rin’s, nor as selfless as Makoto’s. But it was Haru’s. He wanted to be loved, to love back. He wanted a family. It wasn’t going to change the world, but it would change _his_ world. This was the freedom he’d been chasing for so long.

Makoto mumbles again and cracks his eyes open. He smiles wide and unrestrained when he recognizes Haru. Haru smiles back. If he stays by Makoto’s side like this, he just might get his wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys have no idea how hard it was to write a sick mariko I’m sorry to you I’m sorry to mariko I’m sorry to me


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow, Haru-chan I didn’t know you could turn that color,” Nagisa coos. Mariko hums along with him.

“How are they doing?” Mai blinks up from her paperwork at Haru’s question. Two weeks ago, she had picked his idea of for charity cat cookies for her featured special. There wasn’t really anything special about them, just decorated sugar cookies in cat shapes, but they were cheap and cute, and were for a good cause. Mai flips to a different page and taps her nail on a line of numbers. Today, her fingers were white and lavender.

“This is a net profit from them, which isn’t a profit at all since it’s all going to the shelter,” she says, but she isn’t begrudging about it. When Haru had told her he wanted them to be charity, she had been the one to call the local shelter and iron out the details.

It’s a much bigger number than Haru expected, and he’s sure it shows on his face. Mai smiles. She lets her notes fall back in order and starts shuffling a different stack, looking for something.

“It’s _very_ successful, Haruka-kun. The shelter has been behind on donations lately, so this was perfect timing.” She finds what she’s looking for and hands him a glossy little photo. In it, there’s an adult cat curled around a fuzzy bunch of kittens, fur blending and making them impossible to count.

“That’s a stray who has just had her last litter, they can afford to spay her and get all of them adopted, and it’s because of you.” Something swells in Mai’s voice, a little softer than kindness, warmer than compliments. Haru swallows, still looking at the photo. He can see tiny pink noses.

“I’m proud of you, Haruka-kun.”

“Haru.” He swallows again, roughly. Mai’s eyebrows knit and her mouth forms a perfect little ‘o’.

“Just call me Haru,” he says. He doesn’t look up from the kittens. “We’re friends, right?”

Even though Mai is never seen without a heel of some sort, she was still a petite woman. Always with fresh makeup and perfect manicures, her lip gloss and soft curls can make you forget the strength in her arms. Haru is reminded of it now, when they wrap around him and her face presses against his chest. Arms trapped between them, he can’t even hug her back.

“Of course we are! _How_ has it taken you this long to realize! _Mon dieu, Haru.”_ When she laughs, her hair tickles Haru’s chin. She releases him and smacks his arm. Haru frowns and rubs at it, and Mai only smiles cheerily at him.

“Alright! Don’t keep Makoto waiting, he made a quiche yesterday and it’s breakfast today, look.” She finds a picture on her phone, and Haru can recognize Makoto’s kitchen in it. He’s suddenly reminded that Makoto and Mai have annoyingly become best friends seemingly overnight. Haru narrows his eyes at her.

“Makoto doesn’t know how to cook a quiche.” Probably. Haru isn’t actually sure anymore. He looks forward to Makoto’s breakfasts, but still. _Haru_ doesn’t know how to make a quiche. Mai winks, knowing all of this, somehow.

“I may have given him some tips.” Mai turns him by his shoulders and gives him a little push towards the door and it gives Haru a chance to rearrange his gaping mouth into a disgruntled frown by the time they’re out of her office.

“You’re awfully fond of him,” he grumbles. Mai smiles balmily at him.

“He’s your knight in shining armor, how could I not like him? And have you _seen_ him?” Mai makes an appreciative sound in her throat, and Haru has to agree despite himself. He _has_ seen him, and knowing he’s seen more than Mai ever will mollifies him without Haru even noticing.

“Oh stop gloating and go eat your quiche.”  

He’s outside, Mai shutting the door on him with a smile when he looks down to realize he still has the picture of the cats. He looks at it again, the orange fur from the mother somehow melting into the black and white of the one under it, and quietly tucks it in his notebook. His stomach is a second from grumbling after his early shift at the cafe, and he knows just where to go for breakfast.

 

Makoto’s had the news playing quietly in the background all morning, so the snow covering the ground when he slits the blinds doesn’t surprise him. It’s comfortable inside the house, but Makoto kicks the thermostat up another click just in case. Haru would be there soon, and he’ll definitely be cold from his walk from the station.

It’s strange, that waiting for Haru to come over in the mornings has become so routine, but still exciting to him each time. He thinks about how he’ll be able to kiss him, and how Haru will lean up for it expectantly, and Makoto’s chest fills with buzzing anticipation.

“He probably has to stand on his toes,” he coos to a still groggy Mariko. She mimics sound back to him lazily, still not convinced it’s really time to wake up. Makoto grabs her socked toes and wiggles them.

“That’s cute huh, just like _you_ are!” That wins him some giggles. Encouraged, he lifts her out of the high chair and flies her around. When he sings to her, she cheers and howls back. It was Makoto’s favorite thing about her, that she was always ready to exchange any emotion for joy. It gives him a reason to dance around in his kitchen, at the very least.

“Dadda!” she laughs. Makoto hugs her up close to rub his nose against hers.

“Kisses?” he tries. They’re still working on it. Mariko is more of a sucker fish than a kisser, but she’s getting it. She slobbers over his cheek between giggles and Makoto swings them both around to celebrate it.

It’s how Haru finds them a few minutes later, spinning in circles and singing each other’s names before laughing and nuzzling. Haru had come in quiet as usual, and when Makoto catches him out of the corner of his eye mid-spin, the smile comes just as quietly.

Mariko spots him at the same time, and suddenly Makoto is old news. “Saba _Sabaa_ ,” she reaches her greedy arms out to him, and Makoto burns with how much he longs for this. He hands her over when Haru reaches back to him. It frees his hands up to brush the snow out of Haru’s hair before it all melts down into his roots.

Mariko bubbles like a spring, telling Haru all about everything that’s happened since seeing him last. Haru listens as if it was in any kind of language they could understand. Mariko pats his chin enthusiastically and Haru nods seriously, and Makoto worries that maybe he’s the only one who doesn’t understand.

“Don’t make that face,” Haru says, and kisses him. It catches Makoto off guard, but not enough to miss that Haru _had_ had to stand on his toes.

On second thought, he has several reasons to dance around his kitchen. It’s not difficult to put his hands on Haru’s waist and swing him around too. It brings a surprised little huff from Haru, and victorious laughter from Makoto’s gut.

 _“Okay,_ enough,” Haru says, but his lips are still quirked up and betray him. Makoto leans down to cover them with his own.

“You’ll be late,” Haru says when Makoto pulls a breaths space back. Makoto watches his eyes. Up this close, they’re breathtaking.

“What if I said I didn’t care?” Makoto feels when Haru’s breath catches, even though his face doesn’t change. But his eyes, his eyes are honest.

“Go to work.” It’s hardly convincing. Makoto grins to let him know, and that’s when the color climbs into Haru’s skin. Makoto lets himself think about what it could be like, to blow off work and waste the day lazily away with Haru. He knows Haru is seeing it too. On a whim, Makoto rubs his nose on Haru’s, squishing Mariko between them.

 _“Makoto.”_ Makoto thinks Haru probably meant for that to come out sterner than the voiceless laugh it really was. Even if it had been, Makoto wouldn’t have minded. He hasn’t yet heard Haru say his name in a way he didn’t like.

“Okay,” he gives in. Mariko goes back to trying to climb up Haru’s shoulders and when she’s close enough, Makoto pokes at Haru’s cheek.

“Macchan, kisses!” Haru opens his mouth but words never make it out. Instead, Mariko slobbers on the side of his face while Makoto neatly pecks the other. Haru’s frozen in shock and awe, and Mariko and Makoto break into giggles at him. Makoto kisses Mariko’s head and gets his coat while he waits for Haru to finish processing. His mouth opens and closes, and Makoto has the stray thought that he’s more like a fish than even Haru knows.

In the end, he closes his mouth and hides in Mariko’s hair. Makoto zips his coat and taps the top of Haru’s head until he looks up at him. Haru’s ears are red, and he can’t blame the cold outside.

Makoto kisses his forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. Haru nods against Mariko.

“Stay safe,” he says. Makoto smiles back at him and heads for the door. Leaving for twenty-four hour shifts doesn’t seem half so daunting when he has Haru and Macchan waiting at home for him.

 

Haru had planned on napping once Makoto left, but he doesn’t have a prayer of being able to sleep now. He had worked an early shift at the bakery and by all means should be ready to sleep, but he touches his cheek and feels his heart hammering away in his chest, and knows it’s pointless.

Mariko seems too awake to allow it anyway. Haru cuts himself some of his highly anticipated quiche and moves them to the living room. He lets Mariko loose among her toys, but still clicks through the channels until he finds cartoons. He’ll never admit it, but he catches himself watching Hana Kappa and Doraemon reruns just as closely as Mariko. Sometimes.

The quiche is good, and Haru goes for a second helping between episodes. The crust is a little over mixed, but it’s still good. Haru wonders how long Makoto spent making it. It’s possible there are failed attempts out in the bin, and Haru smiles a little thinking of Mai helping him through it.

He brought his sketchbook with him, and he pulls it out when the new episode is one he’s already watched with Mariko once this week. He doodles Doraemon and Shin-chan, a little more cartoony than his usual style. He doesn’t really have anything in particular to work on, but only because he’d just met his last deadline. He’s still crossing his fingers his latest project will be published and delivered in time for-

His phone rings for a text. It hasn’t been long enough for Makoto to be taking a break, and even then, it wasn’t unusual for Haru to not hear from him until he was on his way home. What _is_ unusual, is Haru’s phone ringing for another message. Haru closes his sketchbook carefully, taking a moment to ground himself with it.

 _Haru-chan!_ His phone flashes at him. Oh. Nagisa. Haru relaxes and opens his phone. Nagisa had been texting him more and more recently, encouraged by a Haru who actually responds on occasion.

 _Haru-chan! It’s almost Christmas! What do you want!_ Haru smiles. Why does everything end in an exclamation mark? _You’re going with us to the Christmas party right!_

Makoto _had_ invited him. He’d rubbed the back of his neck and explained that they usually just go out to dinner somewhere, exchange gifts and maybe have a few drinks. It’s become something of a tradition, one that according to Makoto, Haru had been sorely missed from. Haru hadn’t known what to say except that of course he’d go this year.

 _Yes_ , he sends. His phone rings again before he can even close the window. _Yay! Haru-chan answered me! What are you doing right now?_ Haru looks around himself. Mariko is banging on what looks like a miniature drum set, except it makes a variety of sounds, none of which could possibly come from a drum. Haru clicks his camera on and takes a picture when he calls her name and she turns back to him. _Uwah no fair! You get to hang out with Macchan!_ She smacks the snare drum as hard as she can, and it moos back at her. Haru gets another text and lets her go back to her drums. _Haru-chan, I miss you._

Sometimes, Haru forgets that it wasn’t only Makoto that he’d left all those years ago.

 _Lunch?_ he sends, though he isn’t hungry. Nagisa’s reply is instantaneous. _Really!! Yes Haru-chan!! Meet me in two hours!_ So excitable, but, that part of Nagisa had never changed. Haru can always nap after he gets back. By the sounds of things, he’s going to need it. He texts back to agree, and Nagisa texts him an address.

Mariko uses her knee to support herself so she can stand and grins wildly at him when he switches his attention to her from his phone. Her smile gets wider and toothier and she starts laughing, completely unprompted from Haru. Haru’s lips curl and he reaches out to muss her hair.

“What are you doing?” he asks. She grabs the hand in her hair with both of hers and tugs. Haru finds himself smiling even as he follows her off the couch and to her little corner of toys. He thinks she wants him to play the drums with her, but she shoves them out of the way to get to a stash of thick paged picture books.

 _“Sabaaa,”_ she drawls, still grinning. She shoves the whole pile towards him with both little socked feet.

“You know I’m going to do whatever you want, don’t you?” He picks up one of the books anyway. It’s not long by any definition, but probably a little longer than-

“Saba no!” she slaps that one down and pushes a different one to him. Well then.

Haru picks up the _preferred_ book, and Mariko makes herself comfortable in his lap. He’ll have to give her a bath before they head out to meet Nagisa for lunch, and honestly, he'd like one himself after his shift. But they aren’t going far. He props the book open on his knees and rests his chin in her hair. It doesn’t matter that sometimes she’s too eager and turns the page before he’s finished reading it to her.

 _“She loves you too.”_ Haru feels like he’s glowing when he kisses the top of her head and starts the next page. He’ll always make time for this.

 

The first twinge of regret comes at the sight of the restaurant Nagisa had chosen to meet at. Bright, flashy, and boasting a lot of English on it’s storefront, it’s exactly the kind of place Nagisa would flourish in, and somehow Haru still hadn’t been prepared to face it. He looks down at Mariko, strapped to his chest with the baby harness. She’s bouncing with the music from inside. For a second, Haru wonders if that’s why Nagisa chose the place.

Inside is as peppy as he’d expected, but Nagisa waves him over to a booth against the windows and away from the speakers and it’s not that bad. At the very least, Mariko seems to enjoy the place, so Haru will try to enjoy it too.

“Haru-chan! Macchan!” Nagisa jumps up as soon as Haru is close enough, and does his very best at hugging both of them. Mariko picks up his energy immediately and paps his face until he pokes back at her and blows raspberries at her. It’s obvious now, how much compatibility he has with her. Within seconds, Nagisa has her giggling and bouncing. Haru won’t ever say it outloud, but he probably should have been coming to Nagisa for help from the beginning.

“I got Macchan a special chair too, look look,” he tells Haru and sure enough, there’s a little high chair waiting on Haru’s side of the booth. Nagisa flops back to his side, and Haru begins the complicated task of unweaving Mariko from his chest, unbundling her from all the layers of winter clothing and situating her in said chair.

By the time he’s done, Nagisa has somehow acquired milkshakes. He takes the cherry off Haru’s and pops it into his mouth with a grin and a wink. Haru just shakes his head fondly and picks up his spoon.

“Get whatever you want Haru-chan, it’s my treat.” Haru frowns at him but Nagisa cuts off any protests before they begin.

“Ah ah ah I know what you’re going to say and my answer is _no way!_ I dragged you out here and I chose the restaurant and I never get a chance to spoil Haru-chan, so there!” Nagisa runs out of breath. Haru closes his mouth around a spoonful of milkshake.

“Fine,” he admits defeat gracefully enough.

“And I get to see Macchan this way and it’s way farther for you to go than it was for me and I know you don’t have any… transportation.. You just agreed with me didn’t you?”

“Mmhm,” Haru doesn’t have to interrupt his milkshake to answer him. Nagisa slumps against the table.

“Jeez Haru-chan.. I had a whole argument planned and everything.” Incredibly, he’s complaining that he’s gotten his way.

“Do you want to say it anyway?” Haru offers. Nagisa rolls his head over to look at him.

“No, I’m okay now. You should try the unadon here, it’s really good!” And just like that, they’re seventeen again. Menus spread out before them, and Nagisa points out food like tourist spots on a road map.

“Is that really okay for her to have?” Haru blinks up from his menu and follows Nagisa’s eyes to where Mariko is eating milkshake off his spoon. Haru shrugs.

“She likes vanilla,” he says. Nagisa offers her a bite from his own spoon before Haru finishes.

“She likes strawberry too!” Nagisa cheers. Mariko cheers with him, but it might be more of an attempt to get more ice cream out of him than anything. It works, regardless, and Haru is so distracted by them that he nearly jumps when the waitress comes to take their order.

Nagisa orders enough food to feed someone twice his size, and Haru just goes with what Nagisa had suggested for him earlier.

“Can I get your daughter anything?” Haru flips to the back of the menu where the children’s meals are.

“What do you recommend?” he asks, and the waitress is happy to duck down and point out her kid’s favorites.

“I wouldn’t get the curry though, it’s way too spicy for someone her age,” she finishes. Haru’s glad he asked, because he was actually about to order it.

“Just a side of chahan then, can I get apple juice?” She smiles at him and takes their menus, and Haru turns back to Nagisa who’s been suspiciously quiet through the whole exchange.

Nagisa’s wide eyes make him self conscious and Haru looks into his milkshake. Nagisa smiles broadly at him.

“She called Macchan your _daughter,_ ” he says, voice just on the edge of being giddy. Haru blinks. He looks back at Mariko. She had called her his daughter, hadn’t she? He watches her play with the crayons on her paper placemat, and doesn’t feel anything but warm. When the waitress comes back with their waters, he doesn’t feel any guilt at not correcting her assumption.

He doesn’t know how to tell Nagisa this though, so he chews on his straw and tries not to look too smug about it.

“Maan, Mako-chan is so lucky, that’s so unfair,” Nagisa sighs. Haru arches an eyebrow at him, a clear signal for Nagisa to explain. Nagisa sees it and ignores it, offering no explanation and no chance for Haru to actually ask.

“So so, have you thought about what you want for Christmas?”

“I don’t need anything,” Haru answers automatically. It’s possibly more true this year than any previous ones.

“Bzzz! Wrong answer. I didn’t ask what you _needed_.” Haru can’t really argue that. What he wants…

“Jammers?”

“Oh my god Haru-chan, I give up,” Nagisa sounds properly defeated. Haru snorts quietly into his water.

“...I’ll give it some thought,” he amends. Nagisa perks right back up.

“What about Mako-chan, have you figured out what you’re getting him?” That makes Haru pause because no, no he had _not_ figured that out yet. Every idea he’s had seems silly, especially compared to all Makoto has done for him. It doesn’t help that he’s sure Makoto will get him something unjustly perfect. He thinks about it long enough for Nagisa to start laughing at him.

“Wanna know what _I_ think you should get Mako-chan?” he teases. No, definitely not, thirty red flags raise at the trill in Nagisa’s voice.

“What should I get him?” Haru doesn’t know how his voice left him when his mind clearly knows better. Nagisa sings, “A _date!”_

Oh. Haru sits there, fever burning across his face, and wishes he had a menu to hide behind. He could do that now, couldn’t he? Plan a date with Makoto all on his own. With his _boyfriend_ . Who _loves_ him.

“Wow, Haru-chan I didn’t know you could turn that color,” Nagisa coos. Mariko hums along with him.

“Shut up,” Haru says, but there isn’t any heat to it. All of his heat is too busy occupying his face.

“You guys _are_ dating right? Right?” Haru swallows an ice cube and almost chokes on it. Nagisa’s face nearly splits with the force of his grin. _“And_ I’m guessing your last date was fun, right?” Haru coughs. He can still remember how the wood of Makoto’s kitchen table felt against his bare shoulder blades, how it was smooth but cold until it warmed under his skin.

“So you _have_ to go on a Christmas date!” Nagisa continues, blissfully unaware. Haru is only saved from Nagisa’s expectant eyes by the arrival of their food. He takes more care than is probably necessary to tie one of Mariko’s bibs on her before unleashing her on her unfortunate meal.

Nagisa beams at him. He knows exactly what Haru is doing, but he’s letting Haru do it anyway. He changes the topic to something that doesn’t make Haru’s heart beat quite so fast, and Haru is quietly appreciative.

They enjoy their lunch. The food is hot and fresh, the service is friendly and quick, the company is sorely missed. By the time Haru is bundling Mariko back up to head home, he’s full and warm. He lets Nagisa pay, then he lets him link their arms together at the elbow as they leave.

Nagisa peppers him with questions all the way back to the station, but somehow, it’s not bothersome. Nagisa’s questions are harmless, _how’s work, what’s your favorite thing to bake, how do you resist just eating all day?_ Haru gives his answers easily, _it’s good, the small decorative things, I don’t have a sweet tooth like you,_ and Nagisa laughs and adds his own stories and commentary.

They have to split ways at the station, Nagisa back to work, Haru back to Makoto’s house, and when Nagisa hugs onto him, Haru returns it. All the years they’ve been silent have healed over in one afternoon. They leave with promises to see each other again soon, and Mariko waves with Haru as Nagisa skips off to catch his train.

 

Haru spends the rest of the day being utterly lazy. His sketchbook stays untouched after the morning’s cartoons. He passes the time browsing on his laptop for a while, but none of the mountains of results when he searches for _Christmas date_ are particularly inspiring. He leans back against his chair and closes his eyes. Makoto had had everything planned last time. Something new for them to do, a sight only for Haru, dinner somewhere new and nice and then.. Haru opens an eye and looks at the table suspiciously.

“I scrubbed you afterwards,” he tells it sullenly. The table doesn’t reply and chooses instead to remain silently judgemental. Haru closes his eye with a sigh. Maybe he can get his date to end the same way just to spite it. He’ll push Makoto down this time, surely the solid old table can hold his weight just as well as it held Haru’s. Haru can crawl on top of him if he can’t reach. Makoto still has a faint tanline, and Haru thinks about tracing it with his fingers just to watch him shiver.

Haru yawns and stretches his arms up. It’s almost amusing how he went from never thinking about sex at all, to just the mere implication of his skin touching Makoto’s making him hot in the face and itching. Macchan is still deep asleep in her nap, so Haru decides to take his second bath of the day, _alone_ this time.

 

Haru is upstairs trying to wrangle Mariko into something warmer than a t-shirt when Makoto comes home the next morning. He’s early, and walks heavily until he can collapse against his sofa. Haru has something cooking for him on the stove and Makoto inhales it greedily. It was so nice to smell something other than smoke and ash.

Haru is starting to get worried about Makoto being late when he decides to flick the TV on to keep Mariko entertained while they wait. It isn’t until he pads into the living room that he finds Makoto is already home, breathing slow against the cushions. He’s charcoal smudged and his hair is sweat slicked, and Haru goes to his knees by the side of the couch to touch his face.

Makoto’s eyes flutter open, telling Haru he had only been on wading the edge of sleep rather than sinking in it. To Haru’s immense relief, he isn’t injured, just drowsy and filthy. He makes a crooked smile at Haru and Haru can _feel_ how much effort it’s taking him.

“Good morning Haru, I’m home.” His voice is scratchy. Haru brushes his hair out of his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Haru is too concerned to bother with any kind of greeting. Makoto’s smile fades a little, and he closes his eyes against Haru’s palm.

“Yeah, just..” Makoto doesn’t finish. Up this close, he smells like fires. Haru pets his hair back and hopes it’s as comforting for him as it is for Haru when Makoto does it.

“..No. I’m not okay,” Makoto’s breath rattles. Haru’s hand stills.

“A fire?” he guesses. Makoto smiles again, but when he opens his eyes they’re clouded and heartbreaking.

“At a senior center.” Haru stops breathing. Makoto covers Haru’s hand with his own.

“No, no, we got all of them out, it’s not that,” he says. Haru exhales.

“One of them had a service dog-” Makoto’s voice cracks in a way Haru hasn’t heard in over a decade.

“I couldn’t find him I- I went in again and again and still-” His hand is crushing Haru’s, but he hardly feels it.

“I’m sorry Makoto. You did all you could,” Haru’s words would sound even cheaper than they already do if he wasn’t so sure of them. It must have been something awful to make Makoto give up and come home at all. Haru leans across him and rests his head on Makoto’s shoulder. Makoto pulls in a quivering breath after each shaking exhale, and eventually his hand loosens on Haru’s. Haru rubs his thumb over Makoto’s wrist when the blood starts flowing back into his hand.

Just when is seems like the quiet between them will last through the day, there’s a crash from the kitchen followed by Mariko’s delighted squealing. Makoto squeezes his hand and lets go.

“Sorry, I’ll be okay I just.. It’s just hard,” he says. Haru lets him sit up. He tries not to think about how Makoto’s day job has such real consequences, but it’s hard to ignore them when they’re sitting on the couch in front of you. Makoto stands up on his own and offers his hand to help Haru up. Haru takes it and wonders how Makoto would have handled this if Haru wasn’t here.  

Haru lets Makoto pull him to his feet and Makoto engulfs him in his arms. Haru relaxes against him. The smell of smoke is overwhelming, but Haru is already starting to associate it with Makoto, and it’s becoming weirdly comforting to him.

“Thank you Haru,” he whispers. Haru shakes his head against him.

“You can lean on me, if you want to.” Makoto kisses his head. Haru thinks he hears him thank him again, but it’s muffled in his hair.

“Come eat something,” he says. Makoto nods against him and lets Haru lead him back to the kitchen. Mariko lights up when she sees Makoto, and Haru watches carefully as Makoto buries himself in exchange for a happier version. Makoto picks her up and kisses both of her cheeks and laughs when she tugs on his nose and makes noises at him. She has no idea what he’s just pulled himself up from, his smile too brilliant and immaculate to leave any doubt.

But Haru can see it, now. He can see how tired he is, even if he swings her around the air with his usual cheer while Haru dishes him a plate. Haru can see where Makoto is fraying around the edges. He’s struck with the cold curiosity of just how long Makoto has known this particular parlour trick. Was there a time Haru was as blind to it as Mariko? The thought makes him shiver.

He sets a plate down in what has become Makoto’s seat. Makoto nods towards the empty place across from it that’s become Haru’s seat. “You’re eating too, right?” Haru nods and makes himself a plate. _Worry about yourself a little first_ , he thinks.

They eat mostly in silence, punctuated by Mariko holding conversations with herself enough for the three of them. Makoto dotes on her, sharing his food and wiping at her face, but his feet rest against Haru’s under the table. Mariko makes a _bam!_ sound and Makoto acts appropriately surprised, and Haru smiles into his drink. Makoto was right, he might not be okay right now, but he would be. He rubs Makoto’s feet back with his own. Makoto shoots him a warm smile before getting pulled back into Mariko’s story, and this time it isn’t painted on at all.

Makoto announces he needs a shower after breakfast, and Haru can’t agree more. He sends Makoto up with a bit of a shove, and heads back to the kitchen. He doesn’t want to run the hot water while Makoto is showering, so the dishes will just have to wait. He eyes them with a little bit of scorn- he hates leaving a kitchen messy- and the empty quiche pan gives him an idea.

He’d left his coat in the closet by the front door, and when he pulls it out and fumbles around in the pockets, the picture is right where he’d left it. Fur on fur on fur, little tufts of ears, one tiny paw visible with all its little pink pads. He hovers over Mai’s number in his phone for only a moment before hitting send.

 

Makoto rubs his hair off with his already damp towel one last time and tosses it in the direction of his hamper, stifling a yawn. For all his shower did to make him feel better, and it definitely did, it’s still been less than three hours since he left the fire, and he’s _tired._ He yawns again and wipes his palm across his steam-clouded mirror to try and assess the damage. Pretty thick bags under his eyes, but at least he wasn’t bruised or burned anywhere.

He doesn’t feel like getting dressed quite yet, so he only changes into loose pajama pants and a t-shirt before jogging back downstairs. Haru has moved with Mariko into the living room, and looks up from his phone when he hears Makoto coming around the corner.

Makoto inhales. Hot meals are good, hot showers are better, but nothing beats the blues in Haru’s eyes when they look at Makoto. Haru scoots a little further to one side of the couch, clearly inviting Makoto to take over the rest of it. Mariko claps enthusiastically at the cartoon on the television. Makoto exhales, lips curling up over his teeth. Nothing, nothing in the entire world could heal Makoto better than family.

He takes his spot next to Haru, flopping back down and resting his head on Haru’s thigh. Haru only shifts like he expected as much, and pulls a throw blanket from the back of the couch down and across what he can reach of Makoto. Makoto closes his eyes and can feel the hours melting off of him. He’ll be recharged and as good as new in no time like this.

“I’ll wake you before we have to go,” Haru says, reading his mind. Makoto nuzzles against his leg. He really does love him.

“Mm, thank you Haru,” he says instead. Haru’s hand rests on his head, fingers combing through his hair, and Makoto is out in moments.

 

“Makoto,” Haru’s voice falls across his dreams like a shadow. He doesn’t want to leave them, but Haru is calling him.

“Makoto,” he says, this time gently rocking him. Makoto opens his eyes. Haru is looking down at him, and Makoto smiles.

“Morning,” he says. Haru’s lips twitch. “It’s nearly evening,” he informs him. Makoto sits up and stretches, unbothered by the information. His watch tells him they’ve got plenty of time for him to change and head to the pool before class. He stands first, and offers his hand to Haru out of habit. Haru looks away.

“Haru?”

“I’ll get up on my own.. in a minute..” Makoto’s frown slowly shifts into a knowing smirk.

“Your leg fell asleep, didn’t it?” Haru jerks his head to the other side. Bingo.

“You need to get ready Haru. Don’t you want to go swim?” Haru whips his head to look up at him, pout and protest already building on his lips and in his eyebrows.

In one fluid motion, Makoto picks him up. He’d be kind to describe the sound Haru makes as a ‘squawk’.

“Makoto! _Put me down!”_ It’s possible Haru doesn’t enjoy being slung over Makoto’s shoulder in the the fireman’s carry as much as being cradled in his arms with the princess one. The thought amuses Makoto more than he can say.

“I feel a lot better Haru,” he says, doing anything _but_ putting Haru down. “Let me carry you up to change as thanks.” It probably sounds a little like he’s fighting back laughter, but only because he is.

“I can do it myself!” Haru sure does wiggle around a lot.

“That’s no fun, come on.” Makoto is already moving towards the stairs. Haru shoves at him and kicks his feet a little, but Makoto’s grasp around Haru’s wrist is far too strong to be broken. He bounces a little just to make Haru squeak again.

Mariko squeals a battle cry and when Makoto turns them both around to see what she’s up to, she _runs_ to them.

Haru stops fighting and Makoto nearly drops him. Mariko makes it to Makoto’s legs and grabs onto the bottom of his pants, eyes blazing with victory. Makoto looks from her to Haru, and Haru mirrors his own amazement.

“Did she just?”

“You saw that too, right?”

Makoto puts Haru down. Both of them kneel down to Mariko’s level and she sits down hard before breaking into giggles.

“I wondered when she was going to take her first steps, but she skipped the walking part entirely…” Makoto says, a little breathlessly. He looks to Haru, but Haru doesn’t have the words either. He’s watching her with a mix of amazement and.. pride? Makoto’s sure of it. It’s the same combustible feeling in his own chest.

“Macchan! That’s amazing!” Makoto coos to her. She lifts both arms up for Makoto to take her and toss her in the air just enough to make her scream with excitement. He nudges Haru with an elbow. Haru doesn’t need the encouragement.

“Good job Macchan,” he says. To anyone else it might sound impartial, but they don’t hear the warmth in Haru’s voice, or see the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. He reaches out to mess up her hair and she leans back to chirp happily at him. Haru’s face breaks, and he _laughs._

Makoto prays for an uneventful class. He doesn’t know how much more of this his heart can take without bursting.

Makoto moves a little apart from him and puts Mariko back on the ground, turning her back to face Haru.

“Go on, go to Saba, Macchan,” Makoto urges gently. She stands on her own but doesn’t move, a little annoyed at being put down in the first place. Just when she looks like she’ll just turn around and crawl back into Makoto’s lap, Haru holds his arms open invitingly and smiles at her.

“Macchan, come here.” She flies, Makoto and Haru both ready to catch her if she falls, but she only falls onto Haru’s lap.

“Saba!” she says triumphantly, and Haru lifts her up to press his face against hers. Makoto could leave them alone, he could give them a moment to themselves. There isn’t much in the world that he likes watching more than Haru smiling quietly at his daughter.

Except when Haru tilts his head up, silently asking what Makoto was still doing so far away, and Makoto’s face feels like it might split in two from smiling so hard as he crawls across the floor to wrap his arms around both of them and drag them down on top of him.

 

“Macchan, come _on.”_ But she isn’t listening. They had warned the people watching daycare when they dropped her off before swimming, but it seems they’ve done nothing but encourage her to run and run and ignore any calls for her to return the entire time Haru and Makoto had been in the pool.

Makoto had sent them home. It wasn’t their fault his daughter had gone straight from cute, manageable baby to fearless juggernaut. Actually, he’s not really sure whose fault that is. But it’s less cute now, when every time Makoto turns around she’s run off somewhere, blatantly refusing to leave quietly.

“Haru, aren’t you going to help me catch her?” he whines. It’s late, and Makoto is starting to feel as hungry and cranky as his bottle-rocket of an offspring.

On the other hand, Haru is perfectly restored after being in the pool. Annoyingly so.

“She wants to be free,” he says. Case closed.

“Haru, she’s a year old,” Makoto says blankly. Haru shrugs. Mariko screams from the far side of the locker room. Makoto sighs and goes back after her. She peels away from the bench she had been hiding behind and heads towards the showers. At least that’s a dead end, he thinks.

Haru follows them in and they both see the moment her momentum leaves her when she can see she’s run herself into a corner. She stops too quickly, and falls down on the tile. Haru jerks towards her violently, moving quicker than Makoto usually sees him do on land.

“Macchan!” she looks up at him with watery eyes, a dam about to burst. Haru looks stricken.

Makoto laughs. It’s a little forced, but it does the trick. Haru and Mariko snap their attention to him, Mariko too stunned for her tears to even start falling.

“Macchan, did you fall down? What are you doing, silly thing?” he hunches down and pokes at her cheek like she does to him so often, never losing the smile in his voice. She looks from him to Haru and back, a little like she was being left out of a joke. Makoto smiles and laughs more.

“You’re okay! Come on Macchan, you’re going to make Haru cry,” he coos. She hiccups a laugh. Then another. Makoto grabs her sides and wiggles his fingers, and soon she’s only crying because she’s laughing so hard. Crisis averted and child safely recaptured, he looks back over at Haru.

“Ready to go?” he says. Haru blinks at him like he’s grown extra hands. He looks impressed, and Makoto tries to brush it off.

“Ren used to fall down and cry a lot when he was a baby,” Makoto explains. “It’s easier to see if they’re actually hurt when they aren’t screaming and crying.”

“You were just a kid too back then.” Haru frowns. Makoto shrugs.

“I didn’t mind,” he says. Haru’s frown deepens even as they grab their bags and head to the door. Makoto is locking it behind him before Haru speaks again.

“You’ve been grown up a lot longer than the rest of us, it’s not fair to you.” Haru sounds troubled by it.

“Haru?”

“You should let someone else be the responsible one, sometimes,” he continues. They’re next to the truck now, and Haru is looking at the keyring in Makoto’s hand. Makoto looks too, and supposes he probably does have a few more keys than average. There’s the one for his house, and his parent’s, but also for the truck, the pool, the firestation, his bike.. he even has a key for Sousuke’s place, so he can water the plants when Sousuke is out of town. He tosses them up and catches them, breaking Haru’s concentration on them.

“Want to drive?” he asks. Haru’s mouth falls open.

“You know I can’t drive,” he says, closing his mouth with a bit of a pout. Makoto presses his lips against it, warming Haru’s chapped lips with his own. Mariko is falling asleep on his shoulder though, so he keeps it brief and pulls away from Haru a moment later.

“If there’s something that needs to be done, and I’m the only one that can do it, I’ll do it. That’s not life being unfair, that’s just life.” He unlocks the truck. Haru _humphs_ at him, but he lets it drop. Makoto pulls his seat forward to get to Mariko’s car seat, using the action to hide how hard his heart is beating. It’s not like he doesn’t know he has a lot on his plate. He _knows._ He had plenty on his plate _before_ Satomi dropped the responsibility of raising a child alone on him. Back then, it had been all he could do to make sure she was clean, warm and fed before passing out himself. He thinks about how his fridge contents had changed from baby food and protein shakes to fresh vegetables and recognizable cuts of meat or fish ever since Haru had come back and smiles. It isn’t so bad now. In fact, things are _fantastic_ now.

So the idea that Haru might want to do something to help his now minimal burdens, that Haru wants him to be able to relax, frankly, makes Makoto a little giddy. He already does so much for him, but when he catches Haru watching him buckle Mariko in, Makoto knows Haru doesn’t have a clue about any of that. He has no idea how crippled Makoto would be without him.  

He fixes his seat and climbs in. He’d let the engine idle while he situated Mariko, and now he turns old knobs until heat starts flowing through the vents and into the cab. Haru holds his fingers out against them and Makoto turns it up even higher.

“I could teach you, you know,” he says. He pulls them out of the parking lot. “After the snow melts.”

Haru is quiet. Makoto steals another look at him. He’s beautiful in the silver evening, still flushed from the cold. Haru was weak to the cold but beautiful in it. Makoto looks back at the road. Sometimes, Haru is too much. It makes him feel like a child again. He’ll be overwhelmed if he keeps looking at him, impossible to believe that this _being_ is his same Haru-chan.

“I think I’d like that,” he finally says. It takes Makoto a second to remember what they were talking about.

“In the spring, then. It’s a promise,” he says. Haru yawns and lets his head rest on Makoto’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Wanna pick something up for dinner?” Makoto offers. Haru looks at him.

“You aren’t dropping me off?” A little hopeful. Makoto returns it in kind. “No?”

Haru looks out the window. “Whatever you want.” Makoto stops at an intersection and peeks over at him. His face always gives him away, and even seeing him only through his reflection in the foggy glass, Makoto can see how pleased he is about it. Makoto lets his hand rest on the bench seat between them, and a moment later Haru snakes his underneath and laces their fingers together, just like Makoto knew he would.

 

Haru slides out of his seat with the bag of food when they pull up to Makoto’s house. It will be his second night in a row sleeping up in Makoto’s bed, and he doesn’t miss his little apartment in Iwatobi at all.

He gets the door and flicks on lights while Makoto brings in a finally drooping Mariko. He helps her out of her coat and into her high chair, and Makoto smiles at Haru over her head. they both know she’ll be out as soon as she’s fed. Haru feels his stomach pitch forward at the thought of finally having more alone time with Makoto, which immediately turns to a bit of guilt. It wasn’t like he wanted to get rid of Mariko, far from it, but there were still things he wanted to do that he really didn’t need an audience for.

“Haru?” Haru blinks at his name. Makoto is patiently holding out Haru’s styrofoam encased dinner. Haru takes it and sits down abruptly. Makoto watches curiously for a second before letting it go, digging out the bottled water they’d picked up with dinner and setting one in front of Haru.

Haru opens his box and stirs all his food together in frustration. He was getting ahead of himself. He still hasn’t figured out how to ask Makoto on a date, let alone anything more.. _intimate._

Haru peeks at Makoto across the table. He’s tucking a napkin in the front of Mariko’s shirt before letting her assault her food, so Haru lets himself stare. The water must have helped them both, because Makoto seems back to his usual self now. Haru chews slower, eyes trailing from Makoto’s hairline down his cheekbones to the soft feathers of his eyelashes. Haru doesn’t even _own_ a brush capable of making lines that fine.

“The food okay?” Makoto asks, filling the silence before it drags. Haru actually had forgotten he was in the middle of eating. He quickly swallows and takes another bite.

“It’s good,” he says. A minute before, he wouldn’t have even remembered what he ordered. Makoto smiles a little, but he can’t possibly know that.

“You work tomorrow, right?” Makoto asks. Even if Haru hadn’t already told him his work schedule at the cafe, Mai would have. Part of their plan to team up and keep him regularly coming out into the world, he supposes. Curiously, he isn’t really bothered by it.

“Yeah, in the morning,” he says around some rice.

“You’re working a lot recently,” Makoto says. He’s making conversation, Haru knows, leaving it open for Haru to shut down or continue.  

“We’re always busy this time of year,” he says. He doesn’t have a problem talking about the cafe. If Makoto wants to pry, there really isn’t a safer direction for him to go.

“Ah, it’s got to be for Christmas!” Makoto has a moment of clarity and Haru holds his breath.

“It’s Christmas cakes, right? I bet you get tons of orders for them.” Haru smiles. It was true, it was the whole reason Mai had asked him to come back to work for her in the first place, to help with the cake orders. It was an exceeding number of cakes that all needed to be baked and decorated and ready for pick up on the same couple of days.

“Mai has to cap orders every year,” he explains. “But it just makes people want them more.” Makoto laughs.

“I bet they’re beautiful. And if they’re anything like the cake you made for my birthday, probably worth all the hassle and the price.” Haru stabs a piece of meat. Makoto is always sincere, and it just makes the casual compliments that much better at catching him off guard.

“They’re a pain,” he says, but he hardly means it. He’s come to like decorating them, especially tiny little details that take a lot of focus. It’s nothing like swimming or even drawing, but it’s still a way to drown out the rest of the world and make something beautiful.

“Maybe I should order one,” Makoto teases while Haru is distracted thinking about sugar flowers and fondant. Haru huffs.

“You’re too late,” he says. Makoto smiles.

“Mai might make an exception for me, you know.” Haru glares. He doesn’t doubt that. He thinks about her batting her eyelashes at Makoto and inspiration flashes inside him.

“No cake,” he starts, but Makoto is already holding his hands up in surrender and apologizing, and Haru almost loses his nerve.

“Instead.. how about a date?” It’s done, the words stumbling and falling out of his mouth with significantly less finesse than he’d hoped for. Now all he has to do is hold his breath and hope for death to be swift.

It doesn’t come for Haru, however. Rather, it seems almost to go after Makoto instead, making him choke on his water the second his brain seems to connect the dots. Haru wants to bang his head against the table, but he settles for stirring his food into an even more unrecognizable slop in his takeout box.

“You mean like, _a Christmas date?_ ” Makoto recovers. Haru chances a look at him and regrets it. Makoto looks like Haru had just announced he was getting him a puppy.

“Yes?” _Three_ puppies. Haru could have gotten him a dozen puppies and Makoto probably wouldn’t look as excited as he does right now.

“Yes! I’ll take it!” His smile is brighter than the lighting above them.

Well. That wasn’t all that difficult. Haru barely has breath left in his lungs, but Makoto has that effect on people.

“It’s a date then,” Makoto says, when Haru can’t. Haru looks down at his food. He wasn’t very hungry to start with, but now he’s famished. He never thought asking someone out would be so exhausting. Makoto hums unashamedly for the rest of their meal, and Haru doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.

He was a little worried Makoto might pester him for details, which he doesn’t have yet anyway, but Makoto is happy hum away on his own. His blind faith in Haru is encouraging, and Haru quickly loses interest in anything but getting Makoto upstairs and into bed. Haru thinks about helping him out of his shirt, about his fingers over Makoto’s skin, wonders if he can pull goosebumps out of him. He thinks about Makoto letting him touch and explore until his large hands cover Haru’s, how Makoto likes to link their hands and kiss him.

“Ready to head up?” Makoto’s voice cuts in. He’s finished his food and has a drowsy Mariko tucked up under one of his arms, clearly waiting for Haru to join him and head upstairs.

“..I’ll come up in a minute,” he says. He shouldn’t have let his daydreams get so carried away, not when the real thing was right there within grasp. Makoto quirks his head at him.

“Haru..” Haru knows, he can _feel_ how close Makoto is to figuring it out. He tries to discreetly cross his legs. Makoto’s face twists in a wicked grin. He leans down until his breath ghosts over the shell of Haru’s ear.

“Are you _hard_ , Haruka?” Haru shivers and shoves at him.

“I said I’ll come in a minute,” he snaps, but it doesn’t sound as cross as he meant it to. Makoto licks his lips, the bastard.

“Do you want to maybe rephrase that?”

_“Just go!”_

Makoto leaves with one last grin and all of Haru’s pride. Haru waits until he hears the door on Mariko’s room open before heading stiffly up himself. When Makoto joins him in the bedroom, Haru strips the teasing off with their clothes and leaves both crumpled on the floor.

 

Makoto drops Haru off at Sucre the next morning and enjoys mocha with Mai while Haru goes to change. Mariko tries to drink his coffee, so Mai gives her an unfrosted cookie to gum on. Even without frosting, her eyes light up and she looks at Mai with new found interest.

Haru comes around the corner to scold Mai back to work and freezes at Makoto still being there. It’s cute how embarrassed he is about being seen in his chef’s jacket, especially since he wasn’t half as embarrassed when he had his mouth all over Makoto the night before.

Mai doesn’t know that part, but she raises an amused brow at Haru’s blushing face too. Possibly, she’s never seen him make a face like that. Makoto feels the unspoken challenge to show her all sorts of Haru faces and takes it gladly.

“Why are you still here?” he deadpans once he’s recovered. Makoto lifts his coffee cup innocently and Haru’s eyes narrow.

“You forgot something,” Makoto lies. Haru buys it, and comes around the other side of the counter, his troubled eyebrows drawing together. Haru hadn’t forgotten anything, and even if he had, he would be back at Makoto’s house tomorrow. Makoto gestures him closer when he walks around, and Haru bends down to be closer to where Makoto sits.

“Here,” Makoto says, and kisses him on the mouth. Makoto hears Mai mutter something he’s fairly certain is French, but everything else is narrowed to Haru and Haru’s mouth. Makoto licks into his mouth to mix the taste of his coffee with Haru’s borrowed toothpaste.

When Haru pulls away, Makoto is pleased with how flushed he is, and how dangerous the glint in his eyes is. It was only a second, and Mai was the only witness, but it feels like they’ve leapt off a building together. Makoto wants to take his hand and never let it go, but Haru looks like he wants to eat him alive.

“I didn’t forget that,” Haru accuses. Like either of them ever could. Makoto smiles at him, sure his adoration shows on his face. Mariko wiggles his Makoto’s arms, and Haru’s face softens at her. She’s done with her cookie and ready to run, and Makoto won’t be able to hold her much longer without argument. She’s been able to run for a day, and already Haru understands this as well as Makoto does.

He ruffles her hair and says, gentler this time, “Go on, then.” Makoto wants to kiss him again, but he’s already pushing his luck. He thanks Mai for the coffee and waves good bye to both of them with Mariko before loading her back in the truck. It was technically his day off, but he thinks about Mariko’s new mobility and knows he has a long day baby-proofing ahead of him.

 

Around lunch time, Haru texts him. _I have an idea, but I need your help with something._ Makoto puts his screw driver down and replies immediately.

_Anything you need._

 

Haru can’t remember a time in his life where he had so many parties to attend in such a short time period. He should probably be nervous for this one, but the building Makoto’s pool is in comes into sight and he can’t muster up his usual bunch of nerves for these kinds of things. He’ll be in the water after all, it’s nearly impossible for him to be anything but eager.

“This was a really good idea Haru,” Makoto tells him for probably the seventh time. “It’ll be great to get everyone together in the water one more time before new years.” They’re the first ones to the pool, and Haru is itching to take off all his clothes until he’s just down to his jammers underneath.

Makoto holds the key up to the lock and hesitates, scanning the empty parking lot. “We should wait for the others,” he says. Haru makes an involuntary sound in the back of his throat that makes Mariko look at him with a strange face.

“I was just kidding,” Makoto says. “You’re surprisingly easy to tease when it comes to water.”

“Whatever,” Haru says, eyes glued to the key turning in the lock. Makoto barely has time to hold the door open before Haru is slipping inside and tugging at his outer layers.

He’s gotten to know the staff through coming with Makoto so often, and as nice as they were, Haru’s happy they aren’t here tonight. It’s so much easier to strip clothes off at a run if there isn’t a handful of well meaning bystanders hollering after him about trivial things like _safety_ and _public decency_.

His anticipation builds until finally, finally, he jumps to dive in, his body uncoiling like a spring. There’s the sound of his splash and then nothing but the cool pressure embracing him from every direction, water giving and taking against and with his body. Everything is right in the world, and Haru feels like he can finally breathe again.

He does, eventually, need to come up for _actual_ air. He breaks the surface and gasps, lungs burning in the best of ways. Makoto isn’t there yet, but the lights Haru hadn’t bothered with earlier are on, so he can’t be that far behind. Haru goes back under, letting himself sink until he touches the deep end of the pool, then lazily weaves his way back to the surface.

This time, Makoto is waiting for him. Haru smiles from under the water when Makoto leans down to reach out his hand for him. Haru doesn’t want to come out yet, but he takes Makoto’s hand anyway.

“Good,” Makoto says, as if he knew. “Because I know you didn’t bother stretching before you just jumped in, huh?” Haru cringes and Makoto’s grip on his hand tightens. Haru looks at the offending hand like it’s a snake. Makoto smiles innocently.

“And I know you’re going to try and race Rin later, aren’t you?” Haru pulls at their hands, but Makoto’s grip is impossibly strong.

“And I _know_ you weren’t planning on racing an _O_ _lympic athlete_ without stretching, were you Haru?” Makoto’s voice is sticky sweet, his hand unyielding on Haru’s. Trapped, Haru tries a desperate distraction tactic.

“Macchan, do you want to swim?” Mariko coos at him from Makoto’s free arm, but Makoto doesn’t fall for it. He walks Haru over to the bench and pushes him until he’s sitting on it.

“Nice try. Humor me and stretch before the others get here?” Haru doesn’t pout, but his bottom lip might stick out just a bit. Might.

“Do I have to bribe you?” Makoto asks, amused. His hand is still iron around Haru’s wrist, and when he squeezes it reminds Haru of his hand squeezing a very _different_ part of his body. Makoto licks his lips, openly showing Haru his bribe is likely a kiss.

“I’ll do it,” Haru says quickly. He doesn’t want another.. situation. Not with the pool right there. Makoto lets go of his wrist, nodding approvingly. Haru lets out a silent sigh of relief when Makoto turns to busy himself gearing Mariko with all manner of floatation devices.

He stretches. He doesn’t put much thought into it, just the same few he would do when forced to back when he was in swim club, but it satisfies Makoto, and keeps Haru from losing his head. He’s pleasantly rewarded for his efforts when Makoto asks Haru to help him stretch too, and Haru gets a valid excuse to run his hands over Makoto’s back under the guise of helping him stretch.

“Oi, get a room,” comes a familiar voice. Fortunately, Haru doesn’t think Rin or Yamazaki are close enough to see him startle. Unfortunately, Makoto definitely felt it, if the quiet chuckle under his breath is anything to go by.

“We got a whole building, actually,” Makoto says charmingly. Rin’s grin slashes across his face.

“That’s an abuse of power, _coach,”_ he returns. Makoto laughs, and gets to his feet to pull Rin and then Yamazaki each into a one armed hug. Yamazaki’s eyes pass over Haru and land on Mariko, picking her up and ignoring Haru. Haru can’t hold it against him, he’d do the exact same in Yamazaki’s place.

Rin has no such qualms, and after greeting Makoto, does the same half hug-half pat on the back ritual to Haru. Haru returns it, more or less, his stiffness making Rin laugh and slap his back harder.

“You ready for this, Haru?” Rin asks, eyes gleaming. Haru’s chest sparks and ignites. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been looking forward to this for days since having the idea of another group swim. As much as he liked all his other friends, there was still nothing quite like racing Rin.

His eyes give him away, and Rin snaps his goggles on the back of his head. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

“So, how is house breaking going?” Sousuke says, sounding bored. Makoto elbows him. They haven’t even had a chance to move before Haru and Rin had jumped into lanes and took off. Somehow, neither of them are even surprised.

Makoto sighs. “Tell me Rin warmed up before you came here, I’d hate for Haru to find out I let Rin race him without stretching after I made a fuss over Haru doing it.”

Sousuke snorts. “So you _have_ made progress.” Makoto shoots him a look and Sousuke rolls his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck. “Rin’s been in and out of a pool all day. He’s been stupidly excited for this.”

“It feels a little like we’re taking our kids to a play date, huh..” Makoto trails off, watching Haru hit the turn first.

“Oh, _we’re_ the couple now?” Sousuke says, mock gasping. “We would raise our children better than _that.”_ _That_ being the ridiculous, almost bloodthirsty smile visible on Rin’s face every time he surfaces for air. Sousuke tsks.

“See? _Stupidly_ excited,” he says. Makoto knows better.

“You love it,” he says. Sousuke snaps his eyes to him, mouth parting, only to be interrupted before he could even start.

“Mako-chan! Sou-chan!” Makoto doesn’t miss how Sousuke holds Mariko a little defensively to his chest at the sound of Nagisa yelling. Sousuke sees him looking and frowns.

“Shut up,” he says, and Makoto laughs.

“I’m coming I’m coming wait for me!”

“Nagisa is as lively as ever,” Makoto says, amused.

“I’ll never understand how you survived a childhood with him,” Sousuke mumbles. By now, Rin and Haru have finished their race and pulled themselves out of the water. When Nagisa’s bare feet slap on the concrete, running again, Makoto notes with a sigh, Haru smiles at him. It’s more than enough to direct Nagisa’s whirlwind attention away from Sousuke and Makoto, and Makoto watches fondly as Nagisa wraps around Haru like kelp tangling fishing line.

Successfully derailed, Nagisa get head pats from Haru and noogies from Rin, leaving Makoto and Sousuke watching from the sides.

“It’s because I had him,” Makoto says softly. “You know what it’s like.”

Sousuke’s eyes don’t leave Rin, but then again, they never do. “Yeah,” he says gruffly. “I do.”

 

Even though it was Haru’s idea, he’s still a little surprised at how well it’s going.

The swimming, that doesn’t surprise him. It’s hard to say how what’s usually such an individual sport has turned into something that brings them together, but it is. It works for their odd assortment of friends, and Haru isn’t about to question the water.

It’s not really like swim meets they used to have; there are no clipboards with regimens and times, no whistles to be blown, no homework waiting for them afterwards at home. Instead, it’s Rin laughing on the starting block, lax and comfortable, daring Nagisa to go through with his threats to pull him back under. It’s Makoto bobbing up and down with Mariko on his shoulders, occasionally dipping deep enough that the water comes up around Mariko’s knees, much to her squealing delight. It’s Yamazaki and Rei getting along surprisingly well, confiscating a lane against the wall to compare techniques and, Haru suspects, muscle definition.

It’s Haru, in the water and middle of all his friends, smiling quietly and feeling whole. It’s water and warmth and nothing of the solitude swimming used to mean to him. Nagisa takes over playing with Mariko, Rei joining him shortly after. That leaves Yamazaki to drift back to Makoto, but Rin’s eyes focus on Haru and he doesn’t have time to be bothered by it. Rin wants to race, Haru can feel it. He wants to race too. They’ve raced a dozen times over the couple hours they’ve been here but Haru catches Rin’s eye and knows; neither of them are satisfied yet.

“Warmed up enough for a real race yet?” Rin asks, confident as the day he was born.

“Being cocky is unsportsmanlike, _Olympian,”_ Yamazaki chastises. “It’s not much of a challenge for you, right?” This is said looking straight at Haru, challenging. Before Makoto can step in, Haru pulls himself smoothly up onto the starting block next to Rin.

Before, he wanted to race. Now, he wants to win.

Rin’s grin splits his face, and he stands up to crouch back down in starting position.

“Oh, I wanna call this one!” Nagisa says, splashing noisily to stand off to the side of Rin’s lane. Haru nods at him, and Nagisa’s face goes suddenly serious. He holds up one of Mariko’s chubby fists like a microphone.

“This is the final heat between fated rivals, Nanase-chan and Matsuoka-chan!” Yamazaki snorts while Makoto chuckles outright, Rei shaking his head next to them.

 _“Nagisa,”_ Rin says curtly, and Nagisa sticks his tongue out at him for his trouble.

“Hehe, okay for real now!” The tension returns to Haru’s spine. “Ready..” His fingers are ice cold, curled around the block, ready to fly.

“Go!” Haru is in the water before his heart beats again, and already Rin is pulling ahead of him. Yamazaki had stirred him up after all, and he isn’t holding anything back now.

Haru chases after him wildly. He knows his form is suffering for it, he’s too loose and sloppy, but he’s only focused on Rin’s murky form ahead in the lane next to him. Haru knew Rin’s kick was always strong, but he’s grown accustomed to being able to catch up to him in the straights.

Rin isn’t giving him that handicap this time. When Rin makes the turn and passes Haru before he even gets there, Haru feels himself getting desperate.

He makes his turn and feels something _rupture._ Pain blinds him, and he swallows chlorinated water in gulps. He feels himself curling up, sinking. He can’t focus on anything but the pain. He doesn’t know what happened, and he flails weakly towards the surface, knowing it won’t be enough.

Hands find him and pull him up, strong arms lifting his entire body up and out of the water at once. Haru chokes and spits up water, his lungs burning for oxygen. He claws against Makoto, instinctually knowing who saved him. It hurts, it hurts _so_ bad, and Haru suddenly wishes he could cling to Makoto and groan and yell and let it out.

Somehow Makoto gets both of them to the concrete off the side of the pool and lays Haru down gently. It’s clear it’s his knee now, already looking wrong next to his healthy one. Haru squeezes his eyes shut.

And jerks them right back open as hands touch too close to the pain. _Yamazaki’s_ hands. Haru tries to kick at him, but only causes another wave of pain at moving his leg.

“Haru, I know it hurts but you need to let him look at it,” Makoto says. He sounds calm, and Haru turns his face against him. He doesn’t trust his voice to not betray how much pain he’s actually in yet, so instead he only nods against Makoto’s shoulder.

“Go on, Sou,” Makoto says, wrapping an arm around Haru to support his head. Haru could sob. Yamazaki’s hands are gentler than Haru thought they would be, but even the slight pressure from them throbs. He squeezes just slightly and Haru sucks in a breath.

“Does that hurt?” Yamazaki asks.

“Of course it _hurts,”_ Haru snaps. Yamazaki smiles, relieved.

“That’s good, that’s actually really good.” He looks to the rest of their group, who have been hovering timidly all around Haru while Yamazaki had his look. “I need my bag from the locker room, and lots of ice.”

“Got the bag,” Rin says and Rei says the same for ice. Nagisa looks torn for only a moment, then he follows after Rei, still toting Mariko.

“Can you stand?” Yamazaki asks next. Haru groans.

“It’s important, just for a second is enough.” So Haru grits his teeth and lets Makoto help him until he’s standing, all his weight on Makoto and his good leg. Yamazaki nods, and slowly, Makoto leans him down on his hurt knee. Haru can’t count to three before Yamazaki is signaling back to Makoto that he’s seen enough, and immediately Makoto resumes all of Haru’s weight. Haru lets him, knowing it’s nothing Makoto can’t handle, and even lets him half carry him to the bench nearby and sit him down on it. Makoto sits with him, and Haru leans against him. He hurts too much to care if anyone sees him like this.

Yamazaki kneels back down, and by now Rin’s running back out, presumptuously Yamazaki’s gym bag slung over his shoulder. Rin slumps down next to Yamazaki and rips the zippers open, doing what he can to help him. Haru almost doesn’t care anymore.

“Just breathe,” Makoto says, steady voice an oasis of calm. “Sousuke knows what he’s doing, just focus on breathing.” Haru forces himself to inhale deeply. He wishes they were alone.

“I’m going to tape this up,” Yamazaki says. “It’s going to be tight, but it will help with the swelling and bruising, and a little with the pain.” Haru nods weakly against Makoto, and that’s enough for Yamazaki to rip a strip of tape off his roll and get started. Haru lets him move his leg however he needs to, thinking only of inhaling, exhaling.

Nagisa and Mariko come back with Rei, armful of towels and bucket of ice between them. Inhale, exhale. After Yamazaki is done taping his knee he packs ice around it with the towels.

“Here,” Rin’s voice interrupts. Haru opens his eyes to find Rin offering him a couple little pills and a bottle of water.

“Anti-inflammatory,” Rin explains, “Sousuke says it will help with the swelling and the pain.” Haru takes the pills and the water. All of Rin’s bravado has been erased, replaced with quiet regret.

“Not your fault,” Haru says, and it snaps Rin out of his thoughts. He smiles uneasily.

“I’m still sorry,” he says. Haru takes another drink of water.

“You’re lucky,” Yamazaki says, and Haru wants to roll his eyes.

“Really. You have a sprain in your LCL, but it’s only grade II.” Haru stares blankly at him. Yamazaki rubs the back of his neck, not looking directly at Haru.

“It means you ripped a tendon in your knee, but the pain means it’s small and you didn’t tear straight through it. You’ll heal right up as long as you take care of it. Like I said, _lucky.”_

“I don’t feel lucky,” Haru says. Yamazaki grins at him.

“No. I bet you feel like shit.” Haru hates it when he agrees with the bastard.

Makoto doesn’t leave his side, and Yamazaki shifts his attention to him. Haru stops paying attention after it’s clear it’s only care instructions. The pain is getting better, the ice and tape already starting their jobs. Haru supposes he _is_ lucky; there probably aren’t many people with access to a personal physiotherapist within moments of injury. Yamazaki catches Haru peeking at him and grins, and Haru turns his face back into Makoto’s shoulder. Even if said physiotherapist is a big dumb ape.

“I’ll get him home,” Makoto says and Haru takes a second to understand what that means.

“No,” he says, and everyone turns to him. “No, we have dinner.”

“Haru..”

“I’ll be fine,” he insists. He refuses to ruin everyone else’s night just because he got a little hasty.

There’s an uneasy silence. It’s clear everyone thinks Haru should go home and rest, but it’s just as clear that Haru is too stubborn to accept that.

Rei speaks up, adjusting the glasses that have somehow returned to his face.

“I for one, could use a drink.” Haru smiles at him, his unlikely first ally. It’s downhill for the resistance after that, and in short order Makoto is carrying him back into the locker room.

“You don’t have to carry me everywhere,” Haru says, embarrassed after everything.

“If you still want to go to dinner, you’re walking as little as possible,” Makoto returns. Haru sighs. It’s a losing battle.

“At least let me change on my own,” Haru pouts. Makoto eyes him, and for a terrifying moment Haru can picture exactly how Makoto would dress him just like he dresses Mariko. It must show on his face, because in the next second Makoto is sighing and shaking his head.

“Okay, okay. Be careful though.” As if Haru is is eager to put weight on his knee if he doesn’t have to.

“And don’t rip that tape off,” Yamazaki adds. Haru frowns at his knee. He had been too busy gritting his teeth and trying to resist kicking Yamazaki in the face when he’d gotten it done, but now he looks directly at his knee and feels his stomach drop. Already, it’s starting to bruise a little around the outside. Makoto disappears to the other side of the lockers to help Nagisa convince Mariko it’s time to get out of wet clothes, and it leaves only Yamazaki and Rin nearby, already half dressed themselves.

“How long?” Yamazaki looks at him, but Haru keeps staring at his knee.

“He means how long for it to heal,” Rin translates, pulling a thin undershirt over his head.

“Four to six weeks, as long as you take care of it and don’t tear it more,” Yamazaki says plainly. Haru squeezes his eyes shut. Getting dressed and keeping his dignity doing it is suddenly the least of his problems.

He hears Makoto laugh with Nagisa from the other side. Haru stares at his knee like it’s the end of the world.

Christmas, and more importantly, his date with Makoto, is in four days.

 

Haru slams a fist quietly against the bench, but Sousuke and Rin still hear it. They share a look over his defeated form, both of them understanding what Haru is going through on very personal and different levels. Sousuke breaks the eye contact first, hitting a little too close to home for him.

Rin’s heart twists. Sousuke closes his locker gently, tells Rin he’ll wait outside as quietly as if he was in a library, and heads out the door. Rin watches him leave. Haru works on getting to his feet to change, and Rin resists the urge to help him stand. Even he can tell Haru needs to be able to do this alone. In any case, the only help he’d accept is from Makoto.

Haru hobbles with his clothes to a bathroom stall, and Rin slumps against the lockers. Two people now, _friends,_ hurt because of him. He knows neither of them blame him, and on some level he knows it’s not really his fault.

But the look in Sousuke’s eyes as he worked on Haru’s knee will haunt him anyway. It was a familiarity that didn’t come just from treating other people’s injuries. That Sousuke had had what he needed on hand at a moment’s notice doesn’t surprise Rin, but it still hurts.

How often does he have to tape his own shoulder like he did for Haru? Rin closes his eyes. Haru will recover. Makoto will make sure he takes care of it properly. Sousuke will make sure. Haru will be fine.

Haru comes limping back from the bathroom, damp jammers in a white knuckled fist, but he’s managing. Rin smiles at him, trying to offer some reassurance.

“Knock it off, it’s not your fault,” Haru says. Rin takes the jammers and Haru’s bag with his own, just in time for Makoto to come back to their side of the lockers and give Haru a look until he sits back down on the bench.

“I’m gonna wait with Sousuke,” Rin tells him, now that Makoto is back to look after Haru.

He makes it to the hall and stops. He sets the bags down one after the other, following them to the ground until his arms are around his knees. Had there been anyone to pull Sousuke out of the water when he finally tore his shoulder? Hadn’t he had anyone, all this time?

His answer is in deafening silence. He gives himself a moment, then shakes it off as best as he can. He can’t change the past. He can’t be there for the teenage Sousuke when he needed him, but he can be there for the adult Sousuke, whenever he can.

 

Makoto has seen more injured people through his work than he’d care to remember. Burns, lacerations, broken bones- and so, so much blood. He’s seen people lose limbs in nasty car accidents. He’s had seen people that would never walk again.

He’d gotten through all of that. People are incredibly resilient, and the human body is a natural fighter. People heal, Makoto knows. But it’s different when it’s someone he knows, someone he loves.

It’s different when it’s Nanase Haruka.

“We’re _going_ to dinner,” Haru says sharply, misinterpreting Makoto lost in his own thoughts as him still ready to argue. Makoto sighs. It _is_ against his better judgement, but he knows how much Haru would hate to ruin their dinner with everyone, just as Makoto knows he isn’t going without him.

“We’re going to dinner,” Makoto concedes. He puts a finger in Haru’s face before he gets too triumphant.

“But after, you’re going to rest that knee and do _exactly_ what I tell you to take care of it, understood?” Haru frowns, but he nods as he looks away. Makoto relaxes.

“How _is_ your knee, honestly? Are you okay?” Haru frowns harder, stuck between wanting to lie and knowing Makoto could see one coming from outer space.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles.

“Haru.”

Haru turns his face, looking back at the ground. Makoto rests a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s getting better.”

As gentle as he can be, Makoto cups Haru’s face and turns it back towards him. Haru’s eyes are wide and clear, and Makoto searches them for an anchor as desperately as he ever has. Even softer, Makoto pulls him in to kiss his chapped lips.

“You scared me out there Haru,” he admits, letting their foreheads rest together. Haru shudders.

“It really hurts,” he whispers. Makoto nods against him.

“You can lean on me, if you want,” he says. Haru huffs a little but manages a tiny smile. How Makoto had needed that smile. He lets go of Haru’s face to take his hand, helping him up and out of the locker room. Everyone is waiting for them outside, so Makoto flicks the lights off and walks out, Haru stumbling next to him.

 

Dinner starts quieter than any of them expected. Six of them plus Mariko earns them a large table in the back of the restaurant they’d decided on. Makoto takes an end seat with Mariko, and naturally Haru takes the chair next to him. Haru is trying to find a comfortable position for his knee under the table when the empty chair pulls out, and Yamazaki, of all people, sits in it.

“Feel free to take a picture if you’re just gonna stare all night Nanase.”

Haru opens his menu. He blames his knee for not being able to come up with a witty response.

“Ookay, so, we need alcohol.” Nagisa says cheerfully. No one argues it.

“Wonderful. Mako-chan?”

“I’ll have one, but that’s all,” Makoto says, and it’s met by a hearty pout from Nagisa. “I’m driving _and_ I have to work in the morning.” Nagisa sticks out his tongue.

“Same for me,” Yamazaki says, sipping his water. Nagisa pouts harder.

“Oh come on, that doesn’t leave anyone for me to drink with!” he whines.

“Nagisa, we’re _right here,”_ Rin says.

“What am I going to do, I can’t just drink alone,” Nagisa throws a dramatic arm over his face.

“I’ll drink,” Haru says. Nagisa peeks an eye out from behind his arm the exact same time Rei sighs and Rin starts laughing. Haru blinks, turning to Makoto to explain, even as Nagisa tells him ‘no takebacks’ and sprints from the table.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” Rin says, still laughing.

“What-”

“Please don’t try to keep up with Nagisa-kun,” Rei tells him kindly. “He can outdrink everyone except Makoto.” Makoto smiles placidly, and Haru moves his attention to Yamazaki next to him.

 _“Only_ Makoto?” Haru says. Rin laughs harder. Yamazaki glares over his water.

“You have _a lot_ to learn.” Haru _thinks_ Yamazaki says it good naturedly. No one chides him for it, so Haru doesn’t think he means anything by it. He _thinks_.

His knee throbs. Nagisa comes back, somehow having convinced the staff to not only take his drink order for six adults without checking anyone’s ID, but also to give him a tray and bring all of them back to the table. No one even seems surprised by it, not from the way they all just move menus and water glasses to clear a space for the tray. Nagisa sets it down in the middle with a flourish, and four hands reach out for designated drinks without a word. Haru watches the entire thing in fascination before realizing Nagisa is waiting for him.

“Which one is for me?” he has to ask, though he hopes it’s the blue one. He likes the blue one. Nagisa smiles.

“Haru-chan, have you ever had a blow job?”  

Never in his life has Haru heard four adult men all simultaneously choke on their drinks. Nagisa smiles innocently and Haru shudders. He’s mildly terrified of what Nagisa could use his power for if he wasn’t just playing around. Haru looks rigidly ahead, determined not to look at Makoto.

 _“Na-Nagisa!”_ Rei hisses. He’s furiously looking around to see if anyone’s overheard them, but they’re safe in the back of the restaurant. “You can’t just _ask_ people that!”

Nagisa, innocent as the day he was born, sets a miniature glass with a peak of whipped cream on top of it in front of Haru.

 _“This_ is a blow job,” he says, eyes wide and angelic. He picks a second one off the tray for himself, and a third for Rin when he gets a look.  “I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about Rei-chan.” Haru can feel Makoto relaxing next to him, so he guesses its finally safe to peek over.

Makoto looks like he could have passed out. Interesting. Haru raises an eyebrow at him, asking. He didn’t think Makoto still got so embarrassed about those sorts of things anymore.

Makoto misinterprets what he’s asking. “It’s not bad,” he says, nodding to the shot. “It’s coffee flavored, and creamy.” Haru looks at the shot and back.

“Do you like it?” Makoto flushes another deeper shade of red.

“One of my favorites,” he says quietly. Neither of them have been talking about alcohol.

“Haru-chan! Take the shot with us and you can have your real drink!” Haru turns back to Nagisa, realizing happily that the blue drink is for him after all. Haru looks at the shot. It’s not like he _dislikes_ coffee.

“Okay.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to have a blow job with Haru,” Rin says, trying not to giggle over his words.

“None of us can,” Yamazaki adds dryly, but he’s smiling at Rin when Haru looks.

“Don’t be jealous,” Rin grins, licking the tip of the whipped cream. Yamazaki smiles and tips his glass until it tinks against Rin’s, shaking his head.

“To Haru’s first blow job,” Rin says. Haru freezes. Yamazaki snorts, Makoto groans, Rei shakes his head.

Nagisa, Rin, and traitorously Mariko, all cheer.

Haru clinks his tiny glass with the others and, following Rin’s lead, drinks the entire contents in one go. It does taste like coffee and sweet cream, but despite being cold in his hand, the drink is warm going down his throat.

It’s not much like a blow job at all. He wipes his face with a napkin and drinks some of his water to cool it down and thinks there’s only really a few things it has in common. He wants to tell Makoto, ask him about it, and the drink.

He doesn’t get to, which is probably for the best when their waitress shows up with appetizers Nagisa must have ordered with their drinks, and takes their actual order.

Dinner is surreal, but it happens. Nagisa orders enough food for everyone twice over, and keeps his side of the table refilled with alcohol better than the waitress. It’s enough to lift the stress and tension they’d come in with. Haru had thought hurting himself would have ruined their dinner, but Nagisa salvages it with finesse. Haru sips his blue drink, which isn’t the same as the one Nagisa made, but still pretty good.

Haru nurses his drink and watches his friends as a group. There’s an easy familiarity between them, conversations roaming from one end of the table to the other, morphing as they go, keeping everyone involved. They’re close, all of them, and Haru can tell its from the years between them. That they’ve all managed to stay together all this time, that’s certainly remarkable on it’s own. It isn’t something Haru could have done on his own, as his past has proven, but watching Nagisa keep them in a good mood, Haru thinks it might not be something any single one of them could have done on their own either. It makes him feel better, like less of an outsider.

Makoto taps Haru’s shoulder, but when Haru looks it wasn’t Makoto at all. Mariko pats him again, intent clear. Makoto shrugs and helps transfer her over to Haru’s lap. For a moment, it’s back to just the two of them and a baby while everyone keeps up conversations around them. Mariko settles into his lap and uses both grubby hands to hold his chin.

“She’s worried about you,” Makoto says. Mariko pats his face in agreement. Haru brushes the hair out of her eyes.

“I’m okay Macchan,” he tells her. He’s already feeling the alcohol, and now that he isn’t moving it, his knee is dulling to a throb. He doesn’t want to stand anytime soon, and he’s dreading the stairs back up to his apartment, but he’s okay. He hugs onto Mariko and she laughs against him.

“That’s just wrong,” Rin says, and it jerks Haru up. Rin is looking right at him, scowl on his face. It lasts for a full second before it crumples into a teary pout.

“I used to be her favorite, it’s not _fair.”_

“Rin, she’s _one,_ she doesn’t play favorites,” Makoto tries to console him, but Rin already looks like he’s about to cry. Haru thinks it’s a stupid thing to cry over, but maybe it’s his turn to keep everyone together.

“Rin, come here,” he says. Rin looks at him suspiciously, and Haru sighs. “I can’t go over there, can I?” he gestures to Makoto, knowing if Haru tried to stand up on his bad knee he’d be the one to stop it.

Rin gets up and walks around the table, and by now they have everyone’s attention. Haru scoots his chair closer to Makoto to make room, and Rin squeezes himself into the space between Haru and Yamazaki. Without preamble, Haru dumps Mariko into Rin’s arms. Rin sniffs a little, already consoled just by holding her, but Haru has another trick up his sleeve.

“Macchan, who is that?” Haru asks her. Her first answer is lost to babbling, but Rin laughs and tickles her sides and it comes out crystal clear.

“Win!” She laughs and pushes at Rin’s hands, trying to keep him from tickling her. She doesn’t have to try hard; Rin froze as soon as she said his name. He looks from her to Haru, eyes huge watery pools.

“She has a name for me?” His lip quivers ever so slightly when he asks. Haru smiles, and finally the tears start to fall. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Haru smiles at him, and Rin makes something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

Mariko tugs at his hair when he ducks down against her, laughing when his hair tickles her as he shakes. _“Win,”_ this time it’s a complaint, so Rin hefts her up higher to squish their faces together.

Haru leans back against Makoto. “Can you make her do the other thing?” he asks. She doesn’t do it for Haru, not yet. Makoto leans his head on Haru and hums, considering.

“Macchan, kisses?” Rin gasps, guessing what’s coming, but Mariko slobbers on his cheek and says his name and he starts crying all over again.

“Good luck getting her back now,” Yamazaki says. It was probably meant for Makoto but Haru answers anyway.

“It’s okay,” he says. “She likes him too.”

“I _knew_ Macchan loved me,” Rin says, nose running as much as his eyes. “You’re going to come live with me okay? You’re so cute I’m going to _die.”_ Haru looks at Makoto.

“She’s not going to live with him and he isn’t going to die. He’s always like this when he’s drunk,” Makoto says. Haru looks around the still sobbing Rin to his place at the table. One empty glass from Rin’s first beer sits next to his almost empty second glass. And the shot from earlier. When Haru looks at Nagisa’s space to compare it, he can hardly even see Nagisa’s food for all the empty shot and cocktail glasses barricading it.

Haru laughs. He feels eyes on him and turns back against Makoto before he laughs again. He covers his mouth, trying to keep his laughing contained to just a little shake in his shoulders, but he feels a punch to his side despite his best efforts.

“Oi, stop laughing at me, you bastard,” Rin stops sobbing long enough to glower at him. Haru tries to force his face back to neutral, but he hiccups and ruins the effect.

“You’re drunk on two beers,” Haru says. His lips are starting to curl but he feels like he keeps them in check.

Rin holds Mariko up, further from Haru, to glare at him. “You’re drunk too,” he accuses. Haru frowns.

“Give me Macchan back.”

“No, never, she lives with me now.”

Rin ducks out of Haru’s reach with all the grace a drunk olympian has at their disposal, which is to say, he nearly falls on his face, and takes Mariko with him safely back to his seat.

“I’ll bring her back when he passes out if he gets that far,” Yamazaki assures them. There’s a jolt in the table followed by a sharp hiss from Rin, and Yamazaki chuckles.

“You shouldn’t try to kick people under the table Rin-Rin,” Nagisa chides him. Rin looks ready to yell or cry or both, but Mariko picks up the name like a fallen cheerio.

“Win-Win!” she says, and Rin buries his face against her. It’s harder to hear through Mariko, but Haru can still clearly make out Rin complaining that Mariko is the only one who loves him. Yamazaki shifts uncomfortably next to him as Makoto tries to assure Rin that isn’t true. Haru watches Yamazaki. He carefully doesn’t take his eyes from his food as he eats, but there’s something..

Ice hits Haru’s face as he gets to the end of his drink, and the thought is gone. An ice cube escapes his glass and falls in his lap. It starts to melt into his pants before it dawns on him how cold that’s going to be, and with a jerk he flicks it off onto the floor.

“Makoto,” he leans over, “I think I’m a little.” He doesn’t finish his sentence, caught looking intently into Makoto’s eyes. Makoto opens his mouth, and Haru rattles his glass of ice at him rather than hear Makoto confirm it.

Makoto snorts and starts laughing. “You sure _are_ a little,” he says, and now Haru is having a hard time not joining him. “A little _something,_ definitely.”

 

As these things always do, dinner dissolves from a gathering of adults that are somewhat fond of each other, to a barely contained disaster.

Well, _disaster_ might be a bit harsh, Sousuke thinks. All things considered, there’s a minimal chaos level, even with Nagisa. Their table had grown less and less cohesive as the drinks kept coming, and at the moment Sousuke is fairly certain he and Makoto are the only sane ones left.

Nagisa, of course, is the wild card. It’s impossible to tell if alcohol even really affects him, but in the end, Sousuke supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s having fun one way or another, and he knows there’s nothing in the mortal world that could give Nagisa a hangover in the morning, so he’s happy to toast with the little menace every time he comes back with a new and differently colored drink.

Rin and Nanase on the other hand, are completely shithoused. He’s still quiet, and he ducks against Makoto every time to muffle it, but it still creeps Sousuke out to hear Nanase laughing so much. Or at all, honestly. He didn’t think the guy really had it in him.

But Makoto isn’t with them now, he’s off changing Mariko in the bathroom with Nagisa’s unsolicited assistance, and Nanase is wavering slightly in his chair without either Tachibana to focus on. Rin and Rei are in deep conversation over the beauty benefits of wine over beer, and frankly, Sousuke doesn’t have anything to focus on either.

“Has the pain gotten any better?” He blames it on his profession, but really, he can still see the face Nanase made when Makoto pulled him out of the water.

It takes long enough for him to respond that Sousuke was starting to think he hadn’t heard him. “Not really,” he says, frowning down at his knee, holding it responsible. Despite himself, Sousuke’s been watching Nanase’s alcohol intake, since he’d given him medicine earlier. It’s how Sousuke knows he hasn’t had enough to worry about, despite the slur to his words.

Sousuke nods to his own glass, since Nanase’s finished his again. Sousuke’s whiskey was surely stronger than the sugary things Nagisa’s been bringing him, and Sousuke’s barely touched it.

Nanase eyes him and his drink with equal suspicion. Sousuke is about to take his very generous offer back when Nanase swiftly takes his glass and downs the entire thing.

Sousuke stares in open mouthed shock at him. Nanase squeezes his eyes shut and slams the empty glass back on the table.

“The hell- you’re supposed to _sip_ a single malt, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?” Sousuke doesn’t even have the energy to be mad, he’s too busy being bewildered.

“Sorry, couldn’t, paint thinner.” Nanase can’t open his eyes yet. Sousuke doesn’t even begin to try to decipher that one.

“What the hell ever. Feel better?” _Since you just drank more alcohol in one gulp than you have all night,_ Sousuke doesn’t bother adding.

It takes a minute, but finally Nanase opens his eyes and nods. “Yeah, I think.” Sousuke nods and steals Rin’s water from across the table. He won’t be missing it anytime soon.

“Thanks for that.. and earlier.” Sousuke raises an amused eyebrow at that. He didn’t think he’d be getting gratitude from Nanase in this lifetime.

“Yeah well, I’m used to cleaning up after your screw ups,” he says. It’s sharper than he meant it to be.

“Thank you for everything,” Nanase says before his courage runs out. Sousuke frowns.

“I’ve never done anything for you.” In fact, Sousuke is pretty certain he’s done the opposite. Nanase’s eyes are glued to something across the restaurant, and Sousuke follows his gaze. It’s the way to the bathrooms, to where Makoto had disappeared to.

 

“Rise and shine, sweetheart.” Sousuke rips the curtains back to let the predawn grey seep into Makoto’s room, and Makoto throws a pillow at him with surprising accuracy and force.

“Leave me ‘lone Sou,” he growls. Sousuke is almost impressed he’s finally found someone who shares his level of hatred for being conscious in these godless hours.

Sousuke picks up the pillow Makoto had lobbed at him and smashes it on Makoto’s face. He has to jump back to avoid Makoto taking a swing at him, but if Makoto wants his revenge he’ll have to actually leave his bed.

Makoto rolls over.

Sousuke mentally rolls up his sleeves, and then physically rolls Makoto out of his bed. He makes a heavy sounding _thump_ when he hits the floor.

 _“Run,”_ Makoto says. Sousuke’s stomach dips and he actually wants to. He bravely nudges Makoto with a foot.

“We’re going to, as soon as you get dressed. Just a couple kilometers to wake up,” he tries to soften it. Makoto opens his eyes and glares up at him.

“I hate you,” he says.

“No you don’t. Get up.” For a second, Makoto looks like he might go back to bed.

“I’m doing this for your own good,” Sousuke reminds him. That does it, and Sousuke can see the fight draining out of him and the usual Makoto returning.

“Five minutes,” he bargains, and Sousuke helps him untangle himself from the blankets and stand. Five minutes is a huge improvement over the hour he needed just a couple weeks ago. Makoto yawns and stretches, and Sousuke gets the feeling that he just might pull himself out of this after all.

“What’re you looking at?” Makoto asks. Sousuke had been staring at him, even though he wasn’t seeing him. Sousuke shrugs.

“That is some _incredible_ bedhead,” he says. Makoto paws at his hair, fluffy and unruly, but it has no interest in obeying him. “You should just keep it, it can be your new thing.” Sousuke’s teasing now. _“Bad Hair Tachibana-kun,_ it has a nice ring to it.”

Makoto goes red. Sousuke laughs and lets Makoto shove him out of his room, muttering about how he can’t believe he can live with someone like Sousuke. Sousuke reminds him he only has four minutes left, and he can hear Makoto groan but his dresser drawer opening anyhow.

Sousuke sighs in relief. Three weeks ago, it was all he could do to get Makoto out of bed and get some food in him if he didn’t have a class to go to. He was a hollow shell of the guy Sousuke had started to know, but after what happened, Sousuke couldn’t blame him. If Rin had shut Sousuke out like that Nanase prick had done to Makoto, Sousuke is sure Makoto would be the one having to drag his ass out of bed every morning for a while too.

Ironically, his idea to get Makoto up and out for a jog every morning was inspired from living with Rin. Sousuke had hated it in the beginning but, well. He’d always follow Rin, and the time of day didn’t change that. He’d gotten used to it, and once the habit formed, Sousuke found it difficult to really feel awake without his morning run.

He was hoping he was doing something of the same for Makoto. He figures at the very least it’s a lot more effort to change out of running clothes and get back into bed to wallow for the rest of the day after a run, and maybe it will be all the motivation Makoto needs to start getting back into the habit of living.

Makoto opens his door wearing his usual jogging clothes, his hair barely contained by  a little rabbit’s tail of a pony tail and a soft looking beanie. Sousuke snorts and Makoto tugs it down to cover the red tips of his ears.

“Come on, no one is going to see us at this hour anyway.” Makoto looks like he doesn’t believe him but nevertheless follows Sousuke out the door into the brisk pre-dawn city.

The first time Sousuke had gone on a run with Makoto, he had thought Makoto was slow. But when he’d had enough and goaded Makoto to pick up his pace, Makoto had bloomed into a natural long legged and steady gait that was almost hard for even Sousuke to keep up with. When Sousuke had asked why Makoto was so slow jogging if he was more comfortable going faster, the image Makoto worked so hard to maintain cracked.

“Haru isn’t fast on land,” he had said simply. Then he had excused himself to his bedroom and Sousuke hadn’t seen him for two days. Sousuke had been losing hope. But now, Makoto’s progressed enough that Sousuke knows Makoto will probably tack a couple extra kilometers onto their run unless Sousuke objects..

“You don’t have to keep doing this for me,” Makoto confesses after they return to their shared apartment. They’re back in their usual morning routine; Sousuke cooking while Makoto is going over his notes for his classes that day. Sousuke swears some day he’ll teach Makoto to cook something more complex than boiling water for instant noodles, but today they don’t have time to call the fire department.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sousuke lies. Makoto frowns at him.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says. Sousuke cocks an eyebrow at him and flips the omurice in the pan.

“On the contrary. You’re just too damn perceptive.” Makoto politely hides a quiet laugh behind a hand.

“Now you sound like Rin.”

“I thought we were _friends,”_ Sousuke lets his voice drip in betrayal.

“Thank you. For taking care of me like this,” Makoto says, suddenly serious. “I appreciate it more than you know. It’s just.. I never thought..” Makoto’s voice goes tight. He can’t finish it, so Sousuke does for him.

“That you’d have to do it without him.” Sousuke’s voice is just as tight, but hardened from living through it once already. Makoto nods, eyes unseeing and still glued to his notes.

“It’s weird trying to get over someone I never had, you know? That’s what it feels like.”

Sousuke’s grip threatens to crack the wood handle of his frying pan. Concise and sharp, Makoto’s words pinpoint the exact feeling Sousuke has had festering in his chest for what feels like his entire life. It kills him to see it happening to someone else. He’ll never forgive Nanase for doing this to him.

“Yeah,” he says, and this time it’s Makoto’s turn to look up at him, and for Sousuke to see nothing. Nothing but red hair, fading from his sight. “I know.”

 

Rin and Rei clash their glasses together. Apparently, they’ve come to a conclusion about their talk, and are heartily drinking to it. Sousuke can make out slurred cheers for beauty from Rei and muscles from Rin.

Nanase still wavers in his seat. Sousuke shifts uncomfortably. They had been enjoying an almost companionable moment just before, but now the air between them is awkward and thick with tension. Sousuke is wishing Nanase had left him some alcohol when he speaks up, in a voice more determined than Sousuke’s ever heard out of him.

“I won’t let that happen again. I’m going to protect him.”

Then quieter, “I’m going to make him happy.”

“And just how are you going to do that?”

Sousuke doesn’t know why, but he’s waiting on baited breath for a serious answer. All in all, this has been a strange but serious conversation for them, but after several moments of what Sousuke had assumed to be deep thought and consideration from Nanase, he opens his mouth what comes out is:

“How do you give really good blow jobs?”

Sousuke thinks he’s having a small aneurysm. Nanase hits him again before he can recover. “You’ve done it a lot, right?”

“Wai-”

“So you have to know something, right? A trick.”

“Nanase-”

“I don’t think I’m _bad_ at it but-”

 _“Haru,_ _shut the fuck up for a minute.”_

Nanase stares expectantly at him. He _actually_ expects an answer. Sousuke isn’t about to start talking about his sordid sex life to Nanase Haruka, of all people, but he’s stuck. He can’t just say nothing and chance Nanase asking again and Rin overhearing and making it into a bigger scene than it already is. Sousuke rests a hand over his face and promises himself to triple his offering at the next shrine he visits and _pray_ for this to never happen to him again.

“...Know what a prostate is?”

Nanase blinks. “You can get cancer there.”

Sousuke very nearly slams his head against the table.

“Yes, _fuckwad,_ congratulations. But it’s also. For _more_ than that.” Sousuke never signed up for being Nanase’s sex ed teacher. He never signed up for any of this. That was Makoto’s job, he thought that was very clear. He only keeps talking out of respect and concern for Makoto’s ass.

“Listen. One finger, _lots_ of lube.” Sousuke wonders if he’ll ever face a situation half as awkward as this one again in his entire lifetime. He chances a glance to catch Nanase looking at his fingers inquisitively and doubts one could even exist.

“Makoto likes that?” Nanase mutters, disbelieving. Sousuke feels like he’s verging on hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. He pays his taxes. He donates to _charities._

“Nanase, _everyone_ likes that. Just. Do _not_ forget lube.” Nanase nods gravely. Sousuke drags a hand down his face. He’s too old for this shit.

Makoto appears from the bathroom like an angel sent from heaven, and Sousuke decides he’s had enough special friend time for one lifetime. Nagisa interrupts Rin and Rei, and it’s the perfect opportunity for Sousuke to grab Rin and get the hell out of dodge while he still can.

He gives his farewells to Rei and Nagisa, glosses over a direct goodbye with Nanase, keeps it short and sweet with a fist bump with Makoto. Mariko is already falling asleep in Makoto’s arms, so all that’s left is to gather Rin and get him out to Sousuke’s car.

Sousuke puts a casual arm around Rin’s shoulder as he waits for Rin to finish his slightly more dramatic goodbyes. Sousuke is careful, just as always, hyper aware of his arm. The weight he lets rest on Rin, the angle he lets his hand dangle over, aware of where his fingers end and careful not to brush them against Rin in anything that could be taken as more than friendly.

He’s so careful. But sometimes, he wishes he didn’t have to be. But surely, this much is allowed. This much is fine between even just friends, like he and Rin were. When Sousuke moves to point them towards the door, he can smell the cologne he put on after swimming out of habit, and knows Rin must be able to smell it too. Maybe it’s too much, maybe Rin will notice, maybe, things will change.

But he doesn’t. Sousuke is just a friend. His cologne is just cologne. He waits another second, another three feet in front of the other, just long enough for it to seem intentional and unrelated, and drops his arm back to his side. They’ll pay their bill separately, go back to Sousuke’s flat where Rin is just a guest, wake up the next morning and do it all over again. It’s only a dull ache anymore, but one Sousuke is so tired of bearing all alone.

He has no way of knowing how fast Rin’s heart is beating, or how he’ll go back and lay awake on his bed in the guest room for hours trying to name the different scents in Sousuke’s cologne and memorize it.

 

Makoto has his hands full getting home. It’s a little funny that he wishes he had Haru to help, when what he needs help with is Haru himself. But Haru was having trouble walking _before_ he got drunk, so Makoto makes him wait in the truck while he carries Mariko inside first. He doubts Haru can get into much trouble giggling in the passenger seat while Makoto gets Mariko safely up into her crib, but he takes the keys just in case.

When he goes back outside, the passenger door is open, and Haru’s legs are hanging outside of it so he can lay across the bench seat. He swings his good one slightly, and Makoto wonders if he can hear music in his head to make the rhythm for it.

“Come on, you don’t want to sleep in the car do you?” Haru tries to sit up, falls, and snorts to himself all before answering.

“No. Nno no. Don’t sleep in here, sleep in there, on Makoto.” Makoto bites his lip. He should probably _not_ find Haru as endearing as he does when he’s drunk, but he can’t help it.

“Yeah yeah, let’s get up first,” Haru hums in agreement but makes no attempt to actually move. Makoto laughs and, careful of his leg, slides Haru out of the truck until he’s mostly upright.

Haru wraps his arms loosely around him, already getting used to being toted around by Makoto. Makoto doesn’t mind. It’d be better if there was any strength in Haru’s arms to help hold himself up, but at least they’re out of the way like this. He seems stable enough, so Makoto leans back into the cab for their bags.

Haru kisses his neck, and Makoto’s skin erupts with goosebumps.

“H-Haru?” Haru’s breath is hot on his neck, but cool over the skin where it’s wet from Haru’s mouth. Haru’s head falls back against him, and Haru shakes with silent laughter.

“Jeez, you’re so..”

“Something,” Haru adds helpfully. Makoto hefts their bags over his free shoulder and shoves the truck door shut with his hip.

“Come on, you.” Haru doesn’t fight him, just limps alongside him to the door. Makoto lets him down easy, and takes his shoes off when Haru’s alcohol-slow fingers can’t manage the laces. Stairs are out of the question with Haru’s knee, so for the hundredth time, Makoto dips down to pick him up.

“Annoying,” Haru mutters, but his hand is curled around Makoto’s bicep. Makoto smiles and says nothing.

Makoto puts him to bed. He won’t stay conscious for long like this, so Makoto doesn’t bother with anything more complicated than stripping him down to underwear and getting him under the blankets. Makoto is pretty sure he falls asleep sometime while Makoto is brushing his hair, so Makoto presses a kiss into what little of his head pokes out from the blankets and heads back downstairs to take care of everything else for the night.

There isn’t much to do. He rinses their swimwear and hangs them to dry in the bathroom downstairs. He lugs their bags upstairs and throws their still damp towels in the hamper to wash in the morning. He changes into something to sleep in, makes sure there’s water in sight for Haru when he wakes up, and goes wandering for spare pillows.

He comes back with his prize tucked up under his arm, and Haru is still dozing in the same position. He’s already on his back, and it makes it that much easier for Makoto to tuck the pillows up under his knee, lifting it above his heart and surely making it more comfortable.

“Mmakoto,” Haru mumbles. Not quite asleep then. Makoto flicks the light off and slips in next to him.

“I’m here, you okay?” His eyes don’t open, but Haru worms his way closer to Makoto anyway. Heat-seeking, Makoto thinks fondly. Haru’s hand finds his, and Makoto curls them together.

“Just sleep,” he says, already feeling it coming for him. Haru doesn’t respond, so Makoto closes his eyes. He’s still worried about Haru, but he trusts in Sousuke’s diagnosis. If Sousuke says it’ll heal, it’ll heal. Of all people, he can trust Sousuke to be upfront about an injury like this.

Makoto yawns, settling in more comfortably. He’ll figure out what they’ll do in the morning. For now, he just wants to sink into sleep with Haru by his side.

So of course, Haru stirs. Makoto doesn’t notice at first. Not when Haru’s hand slips from his, not when it weaves it’s way between them. Makoto doesn’t notice until Haru’s hand is already sneaking its way past Makoto’s waistband and down into his pants.

 _“Haru!”_ Makoto flies bolt upright, wide awake now. “What are you doing?!”

“Testing,” Haru answers. Makoto tugs at his wrist but it only makes Haru hold onto him tighter.

 _“Testing what?!”_ Makoto’s voice hasn’t squeaked like that in a while. _“Where do you think your hands are?!”_

“You’ll like it, everyone likes it, _oh-”_ Haru cuts himself off and pulls a hand free, and Makoto can hear it patting around on the bed searching for something more than he can see it.

“Wha- what now?” Makoto is a little afraid to ask.

“I need.. He said it’s important.” Haru mutters.

“Haru please, what are you even saying?”

“One finger and lube, I have lotsa of fingers so..”

The fingers on Haru’s hand curl around Makoto’s ass and Makoto takes it back. He hasn’t squeaked like _this_ in a long time.

“Okay, _enough!_ You’re still drunk, all you need tonight is to sleep it off, you hear me?” For a terrifying second Haru looks like he might insist, but instead he releases his hold on Makoto and touches Makoto’s face instead.

“You’re cute,” Haru says, and Makoto can see a sliver of the whites of his teeth from the barest of smiles. Haru falls back asleep while Makoto sputters.

Makoto takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose. Haru sleeps peacefully now, and watching him helps Makoto’s heart return to normal. He can’t believe Haru had tried to do what Makoto _thinks_ he had been trying to do.

“Where on Earth did you even learn about something like that..”

Haru makes a quiet sound in his sleep and Makoto pokes his cheek. Haru frowns and turns away from it, but doesn’t wake. Makoto exhales.

“Jeez,” Makoto frowns. “That’s twice tonight you scared me..” It’s half true, at least. It wasn’t like what had just happened had really _scared_ Makoto, but startled definitely. Makoto adjusts himself, definitely not scared. If Haru really wanted to.. No, Makoto can wait.

Haru shifts and rolls in closer, and Makoto smiles fondly down at him. _You’re the cute one_ , Makoto thinks. Makoto can wait. When Haru’s ready, they’ll move on to the next step together. It’s been a much more eventful night than Makoto had anticipated, but ultimately, he falls asleep petting Haru’s hair back against his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >slides this under the door and runs
> 
> to the like four people still reading this, thank you & I'm sorry x_x this chapter actually got so huge that I'm splitting it into two chapters, so consider this like chapter 19.1. the good news is that means I'll be posting another 20k chapter sometime next week!
> 
> preview for next chapter: 
> 
> Haru wakes up to the smell of food sizzling downstairs. It seeps in through the fog weighing his mind down, and for a blissful moment he doesn’t remember anything, isn’t aware of anything, except that he’s warm in Makoto’s bed, and Makoto is cooking him breakfast. 
> 
> Then the world tilts and realigns, and everything from the night before comes crashing back around him with vivid detail as his knee twinges and twists in pain. Swimming, hurting his knee, dinner after and.. 
> 
> Haru groans. He remembers asking Yamazaki.. and getting to bed.. and then nothing. 
> 
> He’s never drinking again.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I never thought I’d be going dancing with you tonight,” Makoto grins. Haru smiles. 
> 
> “Me neither.”

Haru wakes up to the smell of food sizzling downstairs. It seeps in through the fog weighing his mind down, and for a blissful moment he doesn’t remember anything, isn’t aware of anything, except that he’s warm in Makoto’s bed, and Makoto is cooking him breakfast.

Then the world tilts and realigns, and everything from the night before comes crashing back around him with vivid detail as his knee twinges and twists in pain. Swimming, hurting his knee, dinner after and..

Haru groans. He remembers asking Yamazaki.. and getting to bed.. and then nothing.

He’s never drinking again.

He spots the water Makoto must have left for him and drains it. He’s a mess, but at least it’s his day to stay over and watch Mariko. He’ll bathe and laze around with her, no problem.

He hears the chatter of her voice and the tenor of Makoto’s downstairs, and thinks first he should probably apologize to Makoto. He remembers a lot of weird thoughts running through his head when they were coming home, and if he acted on any of them..

The need for the bathroom swells and suppresses all other concerns. He fights his way out of the blankets and gingerly tests his weight on his knee. It throbs, making him grit his teeth and groan, but he can manage it. The bathroom is close, there’s no way he needs Makoto’s help for even this. He goes slow, but step by step he makes it inside.

There’s a _lock_ on the toilet.

Haru stares at it. He’s at a complete loss. He looks around and remembers Makoto talking about now that Mariko was up and running, he was going to childproof better than he had before. Haru didn’t know that extended to _toilet locking._

He can’t open it. He needs Makoto after all. He tries fiddling with the lock once more and turns to leave, only to find the door he’d thoughtlessly shoved closed behind him also has some hellish cage around the knob. He tries that too, and thinks maybe he should just give up and get used to Makoto rescuing him.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and “Haru? You okay in there?”

What was Mai always calling him, Haru’s knight in shining armor? Haru sits on the edge of the tub, saved for now.

“Can you tell your bathroom to stop fighting me?” Makoto cautiously opens the door, and smiles warmly when he finds Haru innocently perched on the tub.

“Good morning,” he says, as if there was nothing unusual about having to squeeze past your hungover boyfriend to unlock a toilet for him first thing in the morning.

Makoto pats the top of his head like a dog as he walks back past him. Haru doesn’t even have the energy to swat him off.

“I’ve got breakfast when you’re done,” Makoto tells him. Haru yawns and waves him out, more pressing matters to deal with.

Makoto is waiting on the edge of the bed for him when he comes out. Haru barely makes it two steps before Makoto is up and tucking himself up under Haru’s arm to support him.

“I can walk on my own,” he protests.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Sousuke said it’s important to keep weight off it as much as you can, for a few days at least.” Makoto’s already helping him to the stairs, strong and steady underneath him. Haru doesn’t even know why he’s arguing. There’s no way he’d make those stairs on his own.

He leans a little heavier on Makoto. He smells like a fresh morning, shampoo and coffee and a little like the food Haru can already smell from the top of the stairs. Haru inhales him, more comfortable with his surrender than he thought he’d be. Makoto squeezes him in a one armed hug, happy to help Haru without the interference.

Haru looks up at him when Makoto steers him past the kitchen. Makoto smiles, the same one that’s always meant he was up to something.

“I’ve got you all set up already,” he promises. Haru frowns, but it’s made clear in the next few seconds as they emerge into the living room. It’s been more or less transformed, looking more like it’s ready to host a sleepover than a day of babysitting. Haru’s breakfast is on the coffee table, which has been pulled up closer to the couch and also boasts his laptop, phone, sketchbook, pencil bag, and what he’s sincerely hoping are painkillers in a little plastic bottle. The sofa is similarly equipped, a blanket and more pillows than Haru could possibly use, along with a couple bottles of water on the floor next to it.

“I got this when I started baby proofing, but I’ve never actually used it,” Makoto explains, gesturing to what Haru can only describe as a sort of baby prison. If babies had prisons, and their prisons were made of baby gates and filled with all their favorite toys.

“You shouldn’t really have to walk except for the bathroom and food,” Makoto continues. Haru gives him a look that he’s sure says _that’s nice, what of it,_ because Makoto’s next words sound like a warning.

“And those will be the _only_ times you’ll be putting weight on that knee, I _mean_ it.” Haru huffs. He’s close enough that Makoto lets him hobble to the sofa, and sits next to him a moment later. Mariko is completely engrossed in Magi-Girl to pay either of them any attention. _We watched that episode last week_ , Haru thinks to himself.

“Haru.” Haru slides his plate closer, his omurice smells amazing. He takes a bite meticulously, partly to enjoy it, but mostly to mess with Makoto. Makoto sighs, knowing all of this.

“If you’re good and stay off that leg unless you really have to, I’ll bring mackerel home when I get off work.” Haru peeks up at him. It hasn’t been that long since he’d eaten mackerel, but knowing there isn’t any readily available _does_ make him a little anxious.

Makoto isn’t done bargaining. “If you’re _really_ good, I’ll even let you cook it. However you want.”

“I’ll be good,” Haru says immediately. He’s been negotiating with Makoto each time, he might win the right to cook mackerel for dinner, but Makoto reserves the right to pick _how_ it’s cooked. Makoto said it was only fair, that Haru would cook it the same way every time if left to his own devices, and Haru hadn’t had a good enough argument to counter it. A day on a couch was a small price to pay for getting his mackerel and the power to cook it however he wants.

Pleased with his small victory, Makoto leans over and kisses the side of Haru’s face. Haru tilts his head, and Makoto obliges, kissing his lips instead. It’s hard to feel like he’s lost at anything with Makoto kissing him, even if they are brief and chaste.

“Good morning,” Haru says, finally feeling awake. Makoto smiles and tucks Haru’s hair behind his ear.

Makoto sits with him long enough to give him instructions for his knee, to keep it elevated if he can, to leave the tape on it alone, to take painkillers if he wants to, how long to ice it. Haru nods along while he finishes his omurice, wondering how much he’ll actually remember.

Two steps ahead, as always, Makoto pulls out a notepad, where he’d helpfully written all of it down for him. Haru isn’t sure if he should be annoyed or impressed. It’s a feeling he normally reserves for dealing with Rin.

Haru doesn’t have time to decide though, because soon after Makoto is hugging both him and Mariko goodbye and leaving for work.

His morning went by so quickly that Haru didn’t even remember to ask Makoto what happened after they got home last night. Makoto seemed like his usual self, so Haru doesn’t think he jumped him. He sighs. As long as he didn’t repeat his weird conversation with Yamazaki, he just might make it through this with his dignity intact.

 

Haru spends the day in various states of boredom, from listless to borderline vegetative. He thinks about how really, he used to spend plenty of days just laying around barely moving, and doesn’t know how he didn’t go mad. He supposes it had something to do with not having the will to get up before, but now that he has the will and not the means, he feels frustrated at having wasted so much time.

He called Mai, only to find out that Makoto had already updated her about his condition. “When you come back to work, I’ll have a nice comfy stool for you to sit on, so don’t worry about it and rest up.” She tells him she’s putting him on finishing touches and piping work, anything that he can do from a stationary spot, and Haru is surprised with how grateful he is for it.

“I talked with the shelter,” she tells him.

“And?” Haru holds his breath.

“They said they’d love to,” she says, bright and happy. Haru can feel it getting to him, even over the phone.

“Thank you,” he says, and Mai laughs. They go over details, and Mai tells him to feel better before hanging up, but he already does. It helps with the boredom, at least for an hour or so.

He’s deciding on what he can make for dinner that doesn’t require him to stand for long when he hears the front door being unlocked and opened. He sits up, straining to see. Makoto was working his usual shift and shouldn’t be back until the next morning, but Haru feels little sparks of excitement at him coming back early.

“Makoto?” he calls.

Yamazaki walks around the corner. Haru visibly deflates. Why does he even have a key? Yamazaki frowns at him.

“Hey, stop looking like I kicked your dog.” Haru frowns back and flops down on the couch.

“I don’t have a dog.”

“And the Earth still spins.”

“Why are you here?”

“Rin was right, you _are_ in a shit mood,” Yamazaki mutters, and Haru chooses to ignore it. He watches Yamazaki dip down over the baby prison walls and scoop Mariko up to cheers of _Shooki Shooki!_

Haru tries not to feel betrayed by it. Yamazaki bounces Mariko and lets her mess up his hair, and then drops her heavily on Haru’s gut. Mariko cheers.

“Play with her and behave for a minute, I’m here to look at your knee.” Mariko knocks the wind out of him with an _oof,_ and by the time his vision returns and Yamazaki’s words sink in, Yamazaki is already flipping the blanket up off of his legs.

“It’s fine, you can leave,” Haru says, kicking a little in a vain attempt to keep the blankets covering him. He’s keenly aware that he’s only wearing his underwear and one of Makoto’s pullovers. Yamazaki hesitates.

“What, are you _naked_ under there?” Mariko presses a hand against Haru’s cheek, making it hard for him to glare.

“Of course not,” he says, and Yamazaki sighs.

“Then stop being a baby and let me look. I don’t remember you ever caring about people seeing you _half_ naked before.” Mariko leans forward, and now both of her hands are on Haru’s face, distracting him enough for Yamazaki to whip the blanket back and the cool air to blow on Haru’s exposed legs.

“Ass,” Haru hisses. Yamazaki rolls the sleeve of his dress shirt up before gently prodding at him, but he doesn’t even look up to reply.

“Really want to insult the guy working on your injury?” He pulls at the tape still stuck to Haru’s skin from the night before and Haru cringes.

“Yes.” Haru hisses. Yamazaki laughs under his breath. Mariko bounces on Haru’s chest and coos at him, and Haru turns his attention back to her while Yamazaki does whatever it is he does. He can feel the tape being removed, Yamazaki’s fingers firm and steady as they push and test the flesh around Haru’s knee. It’s a quiet affair, with only Mariko chattering away to herself.

Yamazaki covers his knee with both hands, and Haru makes a noise that has Mariko chirping his name in concern.

“What are you doing- stop that-” Yamazaki sighs, but his hands still for him to look up at Haru from under his bangs.

“Listen, this is my _job._ This is what I _do._ Don’t make it weirder than it already is,” Yamazaki resumes and Haru squirms.

“You.. grope people’s knees?” Yamazaki looks like he’d like to strangle him.

“It’s a deep tissue massage, now stop talking.” Haru snaps his mouth shut. Yamazaki’s hands go to work, and Haru tries to focus on Mariko and her little hands. It takes a moment, but Haru starts to relax and the massage starts to feel good, despite all his instincts telling him it shouldn’t. His knee starts turning into putty under Yamazaki’s hands, and Haru’s eyes start to droop.

To Haru’s absolute horror, he makes a little sound of complaint when Yamazaki stops. Yamazaki arches an incredulous eyebrow at him, and Haru refuses to meet his eyes.

“Can I have my blanket back now?” Yamazaki snorts.

“When was the last time you iced it?” Now that Haru is looking, the stitching on Makoto’s couch is really well done. Haru wonders if it was done by hand or machine.

“That’s what I thought.” Yamazaki pads away towards the kitchen and Haru sighs.

“Saba?” Mariko asks. Haru tugs on her cheek.

“I’m okay Macchan,” he assures her, “He’ll leave soon.” Yamazaki drops a bag of frozen berries on his bare knee.

“You wish. You’re not walking on that for at least two hours.” Haru’s vision slowly comes back down from white.

“Don’t you have a _job_ or something?” Yamazaki takes the berries back, wrapping them in one of Makoto’s dish towels before packing it back around Haru’s knee.

“Yeah well, someone has to make sure you don’t rip that any more than you already have,” he says. He scoops Mariko up from Haru’s chest before Haru can close his mouth and get his thoughts together.

“Shooki!” Yamazaki smiles.

“That’s right,” he says, and they head upstairs, leaving Haru stuck on the sofa.

Haru flips the blanket back down over his legs, berry-ice pack and all. He knows Makoto won’t be back until the next morning, but the wait has never felt longer. He hopes Yamazaki isn’t staying.

 

Yamazaki is staying. It’s painfully clear when he comes back downstairs with a freshly changed Mariko, adjusts the ice on Haru’s knee, then heads to the kitchen. Haru can hear the fridge door opening and closing, pans moving around, drawers being opened. Haru can’t help but be annoyed at how comfortable Yamazaki is in Makoto’s house. Haru knows they lived together in college, and it’s obvious they’ve been close ever since, but it’s still _annoying._

The light on his phone flashes from the table, and Haru stretches out to reach it, careful of his knee. _How are you holding up?_ from Makoto. Haru holds his phone with both hands, as if he could cradle his connection to Makoto through it. Haru hesitates on what to send back to him. Makoto will know it's a lie if he says he’s _good_ , won’t believe _just fine_ much more. He doesn’t want to tell him the extent of his moping either, not when Makoto would just waste the rest of his shift feeling bad about it.

 _This sucks._ Haru sends it and sighs. Makoto must have been waiting, because Haru gets a response before the minute rolls over to the next. _I know Haru, you just have to put up with it for a little while. You haven’t been up walking have you?_ Haru sticks his lip out.

_I want a big mackerel._

Haru can almost hear Makoto chuckle at him. _Thank you Haru, I’ll be sure to bring lots home ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ_

Haru snorts at the face. There’s more noise from the kitchen and his not quite welcome guest, and Haru sighs.

“Move over.” Haru looks up from his text and Yamazaki looms over him. He makes a waving motion with his hands, gesturing for Haru to scoot down to one end of the couch instead of sprawling out across the length of it. Haru does not scoot.

Yamazaki frowns and takes a step, already leaning down to move Haru himself. Haru scoots. Yamazaki makes sure the pillows stay under Haru’s knee, propping it up even as Haru sits a little awkwardly against the armrest. Yamazaki takes the new space on the end of the couch, twisting a little to take the ice off Haru’s knee and prod at it with his hands. Haru pulls the blanket up around his face, embarrassed at how Yamazaki’s warm hands feel nice on his cold skin.

“Relax,” Yamazaki says without looking up. Haru has a biting retort ready to fire in the back of his mouth, but Yamazaki is only looking at his knee, lip pinched between his teeth in concentration. Haru lets it go.

“..it feels a lot better,” he admits quietly. Yamazaki looks surprised at Haru’s voice, but nods and turns away.

“You really were lucky it wasn’t worse,” Yamazaki says. Haru wonders how his shoulder is. He hasn’t thought about it in years. It seems unfair to ask him now, so Haru only covers his knee with the blanket and hands him the remote.

Yamazaki turns it to the evening news. Haru can smell food cooking. Mariko plays quietly with her stuffed animals. Haru can’t decide if it’s comfortable or awkward, this strange mix of things he loves and things that put him on edge. There’s a plastic shopping bag on the floor where Yamazaki left it when he came in, and Haru can see the edge of a package of tape like Yamazaki had used on his leg the night before.

His phone buzzes with another text, and Haru turns his attention back to his screen. He’d always figured there must be a reason Makoto could be so close to a guy like Yamazaki, but it _could_ be possible he was actually a nice person on his own. If he wasn’t, why would he go into a field where he’d be taking care of people?

“Why do you do this?” Sometimes it’s best to be blunt. Yamazaki looks at him.

“Now what?”

“Your job. Why did you pick this?” For a long minute, Haru thinks Yamazaki isn’t going answer him. Then he leans back against the sofa and sighs, and answers the ceiling more than Haru.

“Because, when the most important person in my life went somewhere I couldn’t follow, I ran _after_ him instead of away.”

Haru feels the weight of his answer with his whole body. It feels like the floor has been ripped right out from under him, and he’s fallen somewhere deep and harsh. Yamazaki wasn’t trying to be cruel, but his words are too real for Haru to do anything but be cut by them.

“I came back,” he says, the only defense he has. Yamazaki looks at him like he’d been talking to himself more than to Haru, and smiles.

“You did. Make it count.” He smacks Haru’s good leg and gets up to check on the food, and Haru feels like he’s passed some kind of trial.

“Makoto has been a lot happier recently,” Yamazaki says offhand, and Haru strains to pull himself up and watch Yamazaki’s back retreat into the kitchen. Yamazaki doesn’t say anything else, and soon Haru hears only the weather on the television and the thunk of a knife against the cutting board.

Haru exhales. He thinks he can understand Yamazaki, at least a little. It makes a couple things slide into place in his mind, but he’s more occupied with Yamazaki’s last words than the first. Makoto was happier with him.

Haru wishes he was there with him.

 

Makoto shivers a little in his coat. The temperature change from the toasty truck cab to snow blown December evening is a drastic one, and even with a thick coat and gloves, the chill gets to him. Sousuke’s car is backed smartly into his driveway, so Makoto parks on the street before sliding his bag of groceries across the seat and getting out.

He’s not that surprised to find Sousuke at his house. It was hardly unusual for him to drop by unannounced, and Sousuke knows he’s always welcome. What surprises Makoto is that Haru hadn’t mentioned it to him, even though he’s been texting him for at least half an hour.

Makoto hopes it just means they’re getting along for once. He knows it’s probably not true, and that Haru just didn’t want to bother him, or that Haru didn’t want to admit to getting Sousuke’s help, but still, Makoto can dream. It would make his life a little easier if his boyfriend and arguably, for Rin’s sake, _best_ friend weren’t constantly at each other’s throats.

He stomps the snow off his boots outside then carefully opens the door. It’s quiet, no sharp voices or crashes from things being thrown at each other, and Makoto lets his hope grow. He sets his groceries down and starts peeling off outer layers quietly, still on alert for any sign of conflict from inside.

He hears clinking from the kitchen, and peeks around the corner ready to scold Haru if he’s up and cooking. Luckily, Sousuke is too tall and broad to be confused with Haru for even a second, and Makoto sighs in relief. He feels silly for creeping around in his own house, so he clears his throat and walks into the kitchen properly.

“I’m home,” he says, and Sousuke turns to him, slowly grinning.

“Welcome back. You’re early,” he sounds relieved, and Makoto laughs.

“He’s that bad, huh?” Sousuke smiles and turns back to the stove.

“Go see for yourself,” he shrugs to the living room. Makoto leaves the groceries on the table and clasps Sousuke’s shoulder on his way out.

The TV is on, but Haru is curled up against the side of the couch, phone clutched loosely in his hands. It’s clear neither him nor Mariko have heard Makoto’s return. Makoto leans down across the back of his sofa and kisses Haru’s head before Haru can see him just to watch the happy surprise in Haru’s eyes.

“I’m home, Haru-chan,” he says. It’s Haru’s turn to surprise Makoto when he wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck and pulls him in, hugging him tight. Makoto lets him hang on, tucking one of his arms up under Haru’s shoulders to support him. Haru rubs his face against Makoto’s neck, pressing them as close together as possible like this. Makoto hugs him back.

“Miss me?” he says lightly. Haru inhales him.

“Yes,” he says. Makoto closes his eyes.

“I’m home now.” They’re interrupted when Mariko notices him, and reluctantly, Haru lets him go so he can go pick her up. Mariko climbs all over him but when Makoto sits on the end of the sofa with Haru, she crawls back up Haru’s leg to go rejoin him instead.

“You’re back early,” Haru says. Makoto lets his hand rest on Haru’s leg and nods.

“I took a personal day. We weren’t busy at all.” Haru tucks his feet under Makoto’s leg and pets Mariko’s hair.

“How’s your knee?” Haru frowns.

“He did something weird to it,” he says. Makoto laughs.

“I’m sure Sousuke was just trying to help,” he says, expecting Haru to argue it. Haru presses his lips together and hugs Mariko closer to him.

“Mm, maybe,” he admits. Makoto beams and Haru looks away.

“How would you like your mackerel cooked?” That gets Haru’s attention, and Makoto muffles a little laugh at the sparkle in Haru’s eyes. “I promised, didn’t I?” Haru nods and then stops to consider.

“What is he making in there?” Makoto shrugs. It smells good, and he’s sure he saw some vegetables on the cutting board, but Makoto had been more focused on coming into check on Haru than what Sousuke was cooking. Haru gives him a look and Makoto grins a little sheepishly.

“I’ll find out,” Haru blows the hair out of his eyes, a quiet not quite laugh. He shakes his head at Makoto as he goes, but his eyes are warm.

Sousuke does indeed have a small mountain of veggies next to him, and Makoto leans an arm over Sousuke’s shoulder to watch him chop.

“You could help,” Sousuke says, but he’s not annoyed. Makoto pouts.

“You’re wearing my only apron,” he says. Sousuke snorts and keeps chopping. There’s a stock pot covered on the back burner, and Makoto lifts the lid to get a good whiff of it.

“Dashi?” Sousuke nods. Makoto looks around until he finds what he’s hoping for; Sousuke’s electric nabe pot. He got it back in Tokyo, and Makoto has personally eaten many, many meals from it. Makoto pulls it out of the bag Sousuke had brought it in and welcomes it to his home like an old friend.

“You’re a saint,” he tells Sousuke fervently, and Sousuke shakes his head.

“What did you bring from the store? Anything you want to add in?”

“Ah!” Makoto gasps.  Sousuke turns to him, but Makoto has already darted halfway back to the living room.

“Ah?” Sousuke trails after him, chef’s knife forgotten in his hand.

“Haru, what about mackerel in nabe, would that be good?” Makoto asks Haru excitedly. Haru stops bouncing Mariko to look at him hopefully.

“Sousuke’s got mushrooms, daikon, napa cabbage, carrots- he even made dashi.” Sousuke folds his arms over his chest.

“I was going to use tofu but I don’t see why mackerel wouldn’t work too,” he says. Haru looks between them, considering. Makoto nearly holds his breath, but Mariko coos _sabaa_ in Haru’s ears, and Haru smiles, a little at her, a little at them.

“I’ve never had mackerel nabe. Sounds good,” he says, turning his attention back to her. Makoto gets close enough to fondly mess both of their hair up, then follows Sousuke back into the kitchen as Mariko giggles and boos after him.

“You know how to clean and filet those fish?” Sousuke asks him. He’s already back and working on slicing up green onions. Makoto winces.

“Haru usually does it..” he hedges. Sousuke looks at him and sighs, passing him the chef’s knife and pulling out a filet knife for himself.

“Just try and cut the onions and not your fingers,” he says. Makoto grins at him.

“I haven’t cut myself in a week,” he says. Sousuke whistles, somehow making it sarcastic. Makoto only laughs and knocks their shoulders together. It’s been awhile since they’ve cooked together like this, or rather, since Makoto has helped not mess anything up too badly while Sousuke cooks. They fall back into the habit easily enough, moving around the kitchen or preemptively handing tools and utensils to each other with hardly a word.

Sousuke turns the heat back on under his dashi, and starts seasoning it before Makoto decides to give in to what’s been nagging at him since the night before.

“Thank you for coming over to check on him,” he starts. Sousuke grunts, pretending it was nothing. Makoto ignores it.

“I wonder when you and Haru got so close though?” he muses, rubbing at his chin for good measure. Sousuke glowers at him.

“We _aren’t,”_ he says curtly. Makoto hums.

“Really? Even though you came all the way out here to take care of him, knowing I wouldn’t be here-”

“I’d just be pissed if the idiot made himself worse,” Sousuke interrupts a little defensively. Makoto tilts his head.

“You gave him some advice too, didn’t you?” Sousuke pales. Makoto smiles, knowing he’s cornered his prey. Sousuke turns his back to him, as if that would protect him somehow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, aggressively splashing mirin and sake into the dashi.

“Can you explain why my _very_ inexperienced boyfriend tried to _finger_ me last night then?” Sousuke drops the bottle of mirin into the stock, curses and fishes it out. Makoto leans against the counter and hands him a towel. Sousuke takes it, wiping the bottle off but still not meeting Makoto’s eyes.

Sousuke coughs. “He _didn’t.”_

“Oh he definitely did.” Sousuke groans. Makoto gives him a break, turning back to his green onions and to trying to make his slices the same as Sousuke’s had been. After a moment, Sousuke goes back to the mackerel. There’s a peace, lasting just long enough for Makoto to finish his onions, and Sousuke to assume Makoto had dropped it.

Makoto wipes his hands off and puts them both on Sousuke’s shoulders, gripping rather tighter than he really needs to. Sousuke tenses under him, thin fillet blade going still in his hands.

"Why don't you explain it to me," Makoto coos. Sousuke shivers and tries to shrug him off.

"Come on, explain to me how you two went from hissing and spitting at each other like angry cats to _giving him sex tips."_

“It wasn’t like that!” Makoto lets go of him so Sousuke can turn and face him. Makoto doesn’t hide the disbelief on his face. Sousuke shifts.

“Okay, so maybe it was a little like that,” he admits. Makoto sighs into a smile.

“I’m not mad Sousuke,” he says, and it’s Sousuke’s turn to look suspicious. “Does this mean you two are going to get along now?” Makoto asks. Sousuke’s face scrunches in mild horror.

“Gods no,” he says. Makoto folds his arms and waits. Sousuke turns back to the fish, but they sit pristine on a plate, finished into perfectly even fillets. Makoto watches him glance to the vegetables, also equally done, and finally back to Makoto.

“Look, he was drunk, I was just worried about the safety of your ass,” he grumbles.

“How touching,” Makoto snorts. Sousuke pushes a fist into Makoto’s arm.

“It was awful,” Sousuke confides. “He used up all his emotions for the year in one drunken conversation.” Makoto clicks his tongue at him, but he knows Sousuke doesn’t really mean anything by it.

“I still don’t like him, but I’m at least convinced he doesn’t want to hurt you.” Sousuke turns serious, and Makoto listens just as seriously. “He wants you to be happy and… I’m willing to call it a truce, for now.” Makoto hadn’t really expected that. He’d been ready to field years of putting out fires between Sousuke and Haru, but now that Sousuke was putting his pitchfork down willingly, Makoto finds himself unprepared to deal with it.

“I love him,” he says, because the simplest answer is often the best, and he wants Sousuke to understand how much this means to him. Sousuke was a brother to him, getting his approval of his boyfriend was paramount.

Sousuke rolls his eyes. The stock is boiling again, and it’s time to move everything out to the living room to finish cooking and eat. “You’re so lame. I knew that already,” he says. Makoto keeps smiling anyway.

“Just swear to me you’ll never leave me alone with him and alcohol again,” Sousuke says. Makoto laughs and takes his plates of raw veggies to the living room, leaving Sousuke to call after him and bring the dashi in his electric nabe pot.

Haru had cleared the coffee table as much as he could with Mariko crawling over him while Sousuke and Makoto had finished their preparations, and it’s a simple matter to plug the pot in and wait for it to come back to a gentle boil. Sousuke goes back for the rest of their condiments and dishes, and Makoto helps Haru transfer to the floor so he can sit at the table with them. Makoto props his leg back up with a pillow, and Haru sighs in mild annoyance.

“I’m already tired of this,” he says. Makoto smiles reassuringly at him.

“I know how you feel, when I broke my arm I had to wear a cast for six weeks.” Haru’s eyes go wide and flit to his arm, where his sleeve hides his tattoo, which hides his scar. Makoto uses the time Haru’s distracted to take his hand and squeeze it.

“Just focus on how great it will be once it’s all over,” he says. Haru nods, but Makoto can tell he isn’t completely sold on it. Sousuke comes back, arms loaded, and Makoto jumps to his feet to help him. They’ve got the first round of vegetables simmering in the stock when Makoto realizes Sousuke had only brought out bowls for two.

“You aren’t staying?” Makoto asks him. Sousuke had already been packing his bag and looks up at him like a kid caught red handed.

“I don’t want to.. intrude,” he says.

“You aren’t,” Haru says, and Sousuke and Makoto both look at him, neither believing they heard right. “You can stay, if you want.”

Sousuke closes his mouth and shoots Makoto a questioning look, but Makoto is grinning like an idiot. There was hope for them yet. Sousuke considers it for a minute, but ultimately shakes his head and zips his coat up.

“I should get home. I have another dinner to cook and all,” he says. Neither of them push him after that, and Makoto gets back to his feet to walk him to the door.

“You really could stay, you know,” Makoto tells him. Sousuke finishes tying his shoes and stands back up.

“I want you to be happy too,” Sousuke tells him. “Go enjoy your dinner.”

 

When he comes back, Haru is already blowing the heat out of a slice of carrot and feeding it to Mariko where she sits in his lap. Makoto feels warm even before he tastes the nabe.

“Cute,” Haru comments, holding another slice of carrot in his chopsticks for Mariko. It’s been cut to look like a flower, and Makoto grins at it. Sousuke couldn’t help but be a bit of a show off, sometimes.

“He’s in love with Rin, isn’t he?” Haru asks, just like he’s asking Makoto to pass the yuzu ponzu or table salt. Makoto isn’t too surprised Haru had figured it out, but he only sips at the dashi stock in his bowl. Haru takes it for confirmation, and Makoto feels the quiet relief at not having to keep one of his oldest secrets from his oldest friend any longer.

“How long?” Haru asks. Makoto fishes out a mushroom and blows on it for Mariko, but she snubs her nose at it in favor for more flower-carrots from Haru.

“I don’t think there was a time he wasn’t,” Makoto says, and plops the mushroom into his mouth so he doesn’t say anything more condemning than that. But Haru doesn’t ask anything else, and it’s dropped entirely after a few quiet moments interrupted only by the bubbling of the pot on the table in front of them.

They take turns fishing pieces for Mariko and feeding them to her, and halfway through their meal she crawls out of Haru’s lap and into Makoto’s, settling in as sleep comes for her. As promised, Makoto lets Haru cook his mackerel, and it comes out beautifully. Makoto watches Haru’s eyes light up as he tries it, and can imagine them living the rest of their entire lives just like this, in soft, mundane moments where they find something new and wonderful to share with each other.

Haru wants him to be happy, and Makoto wants Haru to be happy more than he wants almost anything else in the entire world. They could spend their lives exchanging joy with each other, and with Sousuke finally on their side, albeit reluctantly, Makoto feels like there’s nothing stopping them from actually going through with it.

“What?” Haru asks when he’s quiet for too long. Makoto comes back to the present, and picks a flake of mackerel off Haru’s cheek before popping it into his mouth.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just thinking how nice this is.” Haru drags his pillow and his leg so he can get closer, until they’re sitting with thighs and hips pressed against each other. Makoto puts his arm around Haru’s waist, and Haru leans against him.

“This _is_ nice,” Haru says.

 

After they eat, Makoto helps Haru and the already asleep Mariko upstairs. They put Mariko to bed first, and Makoto deposits Haru on the bed while he goes into the bathroom. Shamefully, Haru is glad for a chance to sit again. It’s better with Yamazaki’s attentions, but his knee still _aches,_ and there’s no way he can stand on it for long.

He hears the tub faucet kick on and looks at the bathroom door hopefully. He hasn’t had his usual bath today, and he was beginning to give up hope on managing one on his own. If it weren’t for Makoto, he probably wouldn’t have bothered, as much as he’d have wanted to.

But Makoto was back, and he was as much the telepathic saving grace as he always was, and a few short minutes later he’s helping Haru into the bathroom, helping him wash and then again helping him into the tub.

Haru sinks into the water and rests his head back against the wall. This is what he’s needed all day, to be back in the water like this. He opens his eyes and sees Makoto sitting on the ground leaning against the tub, lost in his own thoughts to give Haru his space, but still right there. Still within reach. Haru needed _this_ even more than the water. He tries flexing his knee, and finds it more willing to bend now that it’s had some time and attention. It feels better, and Haru settles further down in the water and thinks how nice it’d be to doze here just like this.

“Don’t fall asleep in there,” Makoto says gently. Haru smiles under the water where Makoto can’t see.

“You’ll just carry me to bed if I do,” he says. Makoto flicks tub water at him.

“That’s true,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry you have to take care of me like this,” Haru says. Makoto’s smile doesn’t waver.

“I’m not,” Makoto says, and Haru tries hard not to laugh when Makoto thinks of how that sounds and backtracks. “I mean- I’m sorry about your knee but you aren’t a burden and-”

Haru covers Makoto’s mouth with a water-pruned hand. Makoto’s lips go still beneath his palm. They look at each other, until Haru is sure Makoto understands, that Haru understands. He understands.

Haru takes his hand away and replaces it with his lips. Makoto doesn’t need any explanation to understand _this,_ and leans over the bath water to kiss him back.

“You talk too much,” Haru says. Makoto smiles against his cheek.

“You’re right.” Haru hums back against him.

“I am,” Haru says. Makoto laughs but still helps him stand and towel off. He doesn’t actually end up carrying him this time, just keeps a strong arm around his waist and helps Haru walk the treacherous meter and a half back to the bed on his own. Haru stretches out while Makoto digs around for something for himself to sleep in. The bed is somehow so much more comfortable than the sofa that Haru yawns and feels the lull of sleep tugging at him as if he’d had a full day.

Makoto changes clothes, and Haru reclines against the pillows to watch. He has a gut feeling doing anything but sleeping will be strictly denied him until his knee is better but, Makoto dips down to shimmy out of his jeans and Haru thinks there’s no harm in looking.

Makoto turns around and catches him, but before he can fully straighten into his _about to scold you like a child_ pose, Haru flips the comforter down and rolls on his side.

“Let’s sleep,” he says, because it’s already hard for Haru to do it without him. Makoto smiles shyly and crawls in with him, and after a minute of shifting and settling, Haru is finally up against him, his hand resting over Makoto’s heart. Makoto’s fingers sift through his hair, making Haru’s eyes flutter and close.

“Are you really okay?” Makoto’s voice is a quiet whisper in Haru’s ear, and Haru knows he means more than just Haru’s knee. Haru finds a way to worm himself closer, rubbing his face on Makoto’s shoulder before Makoto is kissing his temple.

“Right now, I’m great,” he says. Makoto doesn’t laugh, but Haru can feel it when he smiles.

“Okay,” Makoto says around a yawn. “Okay.”

 

Haru had had a couple ideas of how his next day, his first day back to Sucre after his knee, was going to go, but he never could have guessed how it would eventually end.

Haru woke up first, to the dull buzzing of the alarm on his phone. His shifts at the bakery were usually before the rest of the city has their first cup of coffee, and it was just the way Haru liked it. Or how he would have, if somewhere down the line years of barely getting out of bed hadn’t ruined his natural inclination to be a morning person.

But Makoto is warm next to him, sleeping as deeply as ever, and Haru stretches until he can steal a kiss from him and thinks it might be time for him to go back to being a morning person.

Makoto is awake by the time Haru comes back from the bathroom, and he takes over getting everyone ready from there. Haru dresses himself and the still mostly sleeping Mariko while Makoto makes them something quick to eat, and soon Haru finds himself nibbling on toast while Makoto drives him to the cafe.

“I’ll be back to drive you home after your shift,” Makoto tells him when they get there. Haru only nods and thanks him before sliding out of the bench seat and into the chill of the morning.

Haru lets Mai fix him up with a barstool and an entire mise en place of cake decorating tools, frostings, fondants and sugars, and throws himself into the fine details of as many cakes as he can fit into shift.

Outside, he looks calm and focused, no room for anything but what’s in front of him. But inside, he’s rolling Makoto’s words over and his stomach rolls with them. _Drive you home,_ he had said. Not that he’d take him to Makoto’s swim class, or back to Makoto’s house even.

Home.

Haru thinks about his depressing little apartment and can almost see the sugar flowers wilt in his hands. It’s been a few days since he’s been back, but Haru hasn’t missed the place. Makoto had said Haru wasn’t a burden like this, but maybe he needed a break after all. He doesn’t like it, but if Makoto needs a break, Haru decides he won’t protest.

 

 _He won’t protest._ Haru has to remind himself as his apartment building appears around the corner.

 _Makoto deserves a break,_ Haru tells himself, as Makoto pulls into his usual spot by the stairs.

Don’t be so selfish, Haru chides himself, even as Makoto helps him up those stairs and keeps holding him upright while Haru fumbles around for his key. Haru realizes then that he’s had a key to Makoto’s house for months, but the thought of making an apartment key for Makoto never crossed his mind. Why would he want one?

It’s cold inside, but that’s to be expected. Snow covers everything outside, and it would only grow as the year wears on and out. Haru rubs his hands together and kicks on his radiator, hoping it wasn’t too cold inside for Mariko.

“Do you want tea?” he says, because it was cold, and Haru still has his manners. Makoto unzips his coat so Mariko can pop her head out and smiles at her.

“No thanks, we won’t be here that long,” he says. Haru swallows. Makoto is looking around, and Haru can’t help but think he’s already looking for an excuse to leave. It’s okay, Haru reminds himself, trying to believe it. He isn’t leaving forever.

“When should I.. When should I come back?” Haru asks. It’s braver than he would have been even just the summer before, but the thought of not knowing scares him into asking. Makoto quirks his head.

“What do you mean?”

Haru shifts his weight. “You look like you want to leave so.. When should I come back?” Makoto looks at him seriously, trying to read him, but Haru can’t keep his eyes. Haru hears Makoto sigh, the steps as he crosses the space between him, and then it’s just Makoto’s arms wrapping around him, trapping Mariko between them.

Haru looks at him, confused and unsure if he should even return the hug. Makoto doesn’t let go of him until he does, sliding his hands down Haru’s arms until their fingers link as they stand there.

“Why do you think we’re here Haru?” He asks. Haru doesn’t know anymore. He shakes his head.

“I brought you here so you could get whatever you need,” he says. Haru still isn’t following him. Makoto taps at Haru’s forehead.

“You’re staying with me, at least until your knee heals. After that…” Makoto looks down, losing his confidence. Haru’s breath is held in his teeth. Makoto shifts his weight, but he still doesn’t let go of Haru’s hands.

“Hey,” Makoto says quietly, “Can I ask you something?” Haru squeezes Makoto’s hands in his, making him look back up at Haru.

“Do you really want to keep living here?” Haru’s mind stutters, but his mouth knows how to answer.

“No,” he whispers, feeling the crack in his voice and pushing past it. “I never wanted to.”

“Then,” Makoto hesitates and Haru’s heart pounds so loudly he’s afraid he won’t hear the rest of it.

“Would you like to live with me?”

 _“Yes,”_ Haru says, unable to fight the smile creeping up his lips. “I would, I really..”

Makoto’s face blooms into a brilliant smile, and Haru doesn’t know how he ever doubted him.

“You’re really moving in with us?” Makoto says, and he sounds giddy. Haru can feel it catching.

“I think so,” Haru answers, he can hardly believe it himself.

It’s how Haru finds himself folded neatly on his little couch with Mariko in his lap, directing Makoto on what to pack. It’s obvious he can’t just take everything right now, and he still has a few months on his lease, but there are things that he’d rather have with him than without.

Makoto finishes gathering the rest of his paints and brushes into a big cardboard box and adds it to the pile by the door, and Haru eyes it eagerly. His easel is already folded and leaning against the wall, and Haru wonders what it’ll be like to paint in Makoto’s house. It’s something he could do sitting, so it’s something he could do without getting in trouble for putting weight on his knee, and Haru is already thinking of where the best light would be.

Armfuls of Haru’s clothes get crammed into every backpack and suitcase he owns, and even that is exciting for him. It’s too many clothes to keep in bags and piles; if Makoto was bringing Haru’s entire wardrobe it means he’s committed to Haru living there as more than a guest.

When they’ve decided one sprawling pile by the door was enough to get Haru settled, Makoto starts the arduous task of taking load by load down to the bed of the truck. Haru feels bad he can’t be more help, so he lets Mariko climb on his shoulders and ride along as he collects his mail and wanders his apartment for anything they might have missed.

His room is a mess. His pillow and blanket are gone, but the sheets are still snug on his mattress. He skims his fingers over them, thinking how they’re far too small for Makoto’s bed. His bathroom is similarly savaged, Makoto had taken all his soaps and shampoo and loaded them into old shopping bags so they wouldn’t leak. Haru makes it back to the main part of his apartment, and thinks about how strange that he isn’t feeling the same kind of nostalgia he felt when he walked through his grandmother’s house after they had packed everything away.

 _It’s not home_ , a voice tells him. He’s lived here for years, but he doesn’t think it’s ever been _home._ Makoto throws the last backpack over his shoulders and holds a hand out to him, and Haru doesn’t look back except to lock the door behind them.

 

“Can we make a stop somewhere?” Haru says. They aren’t out of Iwatobi yet, and Haru has just remembered something.

“Sure,” Makoto says.

 

“I didn’t know you had a storage unit,” Makoto says. When Haru had asked to stop, he had thought it was for food.

“It’s Mom’s, but I have the key since she doesn’t live in town anymore,” Haru explains. Makoto lets that thread drop to pick up later. He still isn’t sure how Haru feels about his parents anymore, and he doesn’t want to ruin their moving in good mood.

Haru unlocks the door and opens it, and Makoto peers inside while Haru finds the light switch. It wasn’t more than a glorified closet, but the light flicks on and Makoto is hit with a wave of nostalgia when he recognizes what’s inside.

It was furniture, mostly, but not just any furniture. It was Haru’s furniture, back from when he lived up the stairs from Makoto. They spent so much time together in that house, Makoto thinks he’d recognize every and any single centimeter of it.

“This is..” he doesn’t finish, because he can only imagine how Haru feels. Haru squeezes himself deeper inside while Makoto stays in his place outside the door.

“Mom couldn’t stand to throw it away,” Haru explains. He pulls the sheet off something leaning up against the wall, and Makoto of course recognizes the table they sat at so often as kids.

“It’s a kotatsu,” Haru reminds him. “I.. would like you to have it.”

“Haru..” Makoto says, breath leaving him. “I can’t accept this.” Haru looks at him.

“If I’m moving in, then it will be mine again too,” he argues, then corrects.

“Ours.” It’s a heavy word in the stuffy silence of the storage building, but heavy like your favorite quilt, draped over your shoulders like a cape as you watch the storm outside your window. Haru watches him, his eyes wide and open.

“Is this really okay?” he asks, and Makoto can hear how unsure he is. Makoto smiles at him, surer of this, of them, than ever.

“I like the sound of that. _Ours,_ ” Makoto says. Haru smiles shyly back at him before turning back to the kotatsu and running his hand along the edge of it.

“Me too,” he says, back still turned to Makoto. Makoto bounces Mariko in his arms and steps inside with him, already thinking about how to rearrange the bed of the truck to make room for it. He’s glad he had thought ahead to bring tarp and bungees to tie down anything Haru had wanted, because he’ll need it for this.

Makoto hands him Mariko, and takes advantage of Haru having his hands full to cup his face and kiss him. Makoto will never get tired of doing that, or Haru’s not-actually-exasperated-but-pretending-to-be-for-good-measure face when Makoto catches him off guard. Makoto leans in to do it again, and Mariko’s little palms push at him, not wanting to be squished between them again.

 _“Dadda,”_ she says, and really, she’s already got the patiently complaining voice down. Makoto kisses her too, then bounds off to get someone from the front desk to help with the table.

 

Back home, Makoto finally relents and lets Haru help him with it.

“Just open doors and let me take the weight of it,” he tells him, and Haru looks like he wants to roll his eyes. He’s still walking with a heavy limp, and if Makoto could get a better grip on the table himself he would make Haru sit inside and do it all himself.

“As if I could do more than that if I wanted to,” Haru says, and Makoto smiles to himself. Haru being honest _and_ cooperative is something he’ll never take for granted.

Together, they somehow manage. They lean it up against it’s side in the hallway. Makoto makes Haru rest so Makoto can move his old coffee table out of the way. When Makoto comes back, Haru is hunched down looking at something on the underside of the table.

“Haru? We didn’t ding it did we?” Makoto asks, crouching down next to him.

“No,” Haru answers, but Makoto can already see what he’s looking at. “But we _did_ do this.”

“I can’t believe it’s still there,” Makoto says. Haru leans against him, running his fingers over the tiny scribbled writing. Makoto remembers, they had been so young that they couldn’t read kanji yet, and Haru’s mother had patiently taught them how to write their own names one afternoon while Makoto was over. They had been so excited, this world of secret code finally opening up and giving them a peek at understanding. It had been Makoto who decided learning how to write each other’s names was just as important as writing their own, and they had covered pages and pages of scrap paper with ham-fisted attempts with their crayons until they were happy with the results.

It had been Makoto’s idea to write them down somewhere, so they’d never forget, but it had been Haru’s idea to use the underside of his table. Makoto touches the sloppy green writing, remembering how hard he had concentrated on getting the flowing lines of Haru’s name just right. Haru’s handwriting had been better, and his blue kanji for Makoto’s name was slimmer and more graceful, even though he had twice as many characters to write.

“Remember when your mom found us under here? I was so afraid she’d never let me come over again after that,” Makoto says. She had tickled their feet until they came out, but the crayons in their hands gave them away, and she knew what they had been up to immediately.

“I would have snuck out to your house if she tried,” Haru says. Makoto laughs under his breath because he doesn’t doubt it, Haru had been even more stubborn as a child.

“In the end, she agreed to keep it a secret from Dad since it was just the underside,” Haru says. Makoto remembers this too, and how she had made them promise not to write on any more furniture in exchange for letting them pick another kanji to learn. Haru had made her laugh when he picked mackerel.

“It has our names on it, maybe it was meant to be ours,” Makoto says happily. Haru takes his hand. Makoto lets him, and thinks about how maybe, the way Haru’s smaller hand fits so comfortably inside his was meant to be too.

 

“You can’t swim,” Makoto tells him. “I’m sorry.”

Makoto needs to get going to go to his class, and Haru had suspected as much. They’d gotten everything inside, but not unpacked. As soon as Haru had unpacked the quilt for the kotatsu and got it working, all three of them found it hard to leave it. Haru’s various belongings sit around them, boxes and bags.

Makoto looks upset, a little like he’s digging in his heels to be the unyielding voice of reason to Haru’s pool-philia, but Haru is already looking for compromise.

“Can I still come with you?” he says. He knows it probably makes more sense for him to stay home and unpack, but he already missed a morning with Makoto while he was at work, he really doesn’t want to miss the evening too.

Makoto looks like he suspects foul play.

“I mean it, until your knee heals swimming will only make it worse,” he says, standing firm. Haru shrugs and tries to force it to be casual.

“I don’t. _Have_ to swim,” he says, his face screwing up like he’s in actual pain over it. Makoto looks at him distrustfully.

“Really?”

“..Really.”

“Well,” Makoto says, and he’s grinning again. “I’ll have to see it to believe it.”

 

Haru sits on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water for the duration of Makoto’s class, and Makoto keeps throwing him suspicious looks over his shoulder. Haru doesn’t argue for more time, or more swimming, and they’re in and out of the pool building in record time.

“Alright, I give up,” Makoto says once they’re safely in the truck and on the way back. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” Haru says. It’s been fun watching Makoto fidget. Makoto isn’t satisfied.

“What do you _want?”_ Haru’s lips pinch. It had been harder than he thought to stay out of the water, but a pool isn’t the only place he can get his water fix.

“..A bath,” he answers honestly, and Makoto snorts into laughter.

“I knew it,” he says. “You can have as long a bath as you want,” Makoto adds before Haru can pout.

They walk in the front door together, and it hits Haru again that he’s not going anywhere. He’ll have to go back to his apartment at some point for the rest of his things, but he never has to go _back._

“We’re home,” Makoto says, habit formed. Haru looks at Mariko down in his arms. He’ll never be alone again, not like this. Makoto nudges him when he looks like he’s going to get overrun.

“Come on, dinner first, then I’ll get your bath going,” he says, directing Haru towards the kitchen. Haru goes along with him. Makoto makes him sit, but placates him by scooting Mariko’s high chair over close to him and finding her crayons. Haru colors with her and warns Makoto when he can smell the food starting to burn, and together they end up with a completely edible meal and a table covered in smears of colored sheets.

Haru eats, and wonders if he could get away with cleaning up the kitchen or if Makoto would forbid it because of his knee. It’s not that bad of a mess, but Haru’s been keeping Makoto’s kitchen pristine ever since he started using it, and the little bit of mess left over from Yamazaki’s nabe cooking adventure is starting to get to him.

“I’ll clean up while you take a bath,” Makoto says off hand. Haru flinches and tries to look innocent. Makoto grins at him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I just haven’t had time to..” He trails off, and Haru follows his eyes to a shopping bag on the far end of the table. Haru had assumed it was just garbage from Makoto’s groceries or whatever Yamazaki had brought over.

“Makoto?” Makoto reaches over and slides it closer, picking up the folded note on top and opening it. Haru leans in to read it over his shoulder and Makoto angles it so it’s easier for both of them to see.

_For the idiot -S_

Makoto snorts. They can see sports tape peeking out from the bag, and the outline of a bottle of painkillers.

“He signs with an S?” Haru says, pulling the bag towards him, since it was apparently _for_ him. Makoto laughs.

“He picked it up from Rin,” Makoto explains. “He must have dropped that off while we were at the pool.”

Haru hums his agreement so he can keep eating. He starts picking through what Yamazaki had got him, pulling the tape and pills out and setting them aside. There’s a couple of instant cold compresses, a freezer pack so he doesn’t have to use berries, and a curious little box buried down at the bottom. Haru has to bring it close to his face to read the packaging, and when it sinks in what he’s holding he chokes on his rice.

Makoto presses a hand to his back and hands him his water in a heartbeat, and Haru takes it gratefully. The foggy memories of the night of their Christmas party had become crystal clear with Yamazaki’s _gift_ \- boasting the silkiest wet feeling money can buy.

 _One finger, lots of lube._ Haru remembers it all now with painful clarity, from his talk with Yamazaki at the table to his hands fumbling in Makoto’s pants as soon as they had got back into bed. He had passed out before doing more than grope blindly, but Haru looks at Makoto’s concerned face and feels terrible.

“I- I tried to-” Makoto looks at the lube box in his hands and puts it together, his face rushing to turn as red as Haru’s.

“You remember that, huh?” he says awkwardly. Haru groans and lets his head thwump on the table.

“‘M sorry,” Haru says, hoping his voice carries through enough for Makoto to hear, because he doesn’t think he could meet his eyes just yet.

“No no, it’s okay!” Makoto says quickly. Haru just groans again.

“..It’s okay if you want to.. try again..” Makoto says quietly, and Haru rolls his head to peek up at him. Makoto is carefully looking into his food, his face still burning.

“I stopped you because you were drunk but..” Haru’s throat dries up.

“I’m not drinking,” he says. Makoto steals a glance at him and smiles reassuringly.

“We can try again, if you want,” he says. “But we should finish getting you unpacked tonight.”

Haru groans again, and Makoto laughs at him. He rubs Haru’s back soothingly, and Haru thinks it’s unfair of him. They go back to their meal, and Haru shoves the box of lube back to the bottom of the bag and out of sight. It doesn’t occur to him that it’s the twenty-third of December, just like it doesn’t occur to him that possibly, Makoto was procrastinating with ulterior motives beyond only Haru’s health.

 

The morning of the 24th starts early, with a phone call.

Makoto can sleep through a good many things louder, but he somehow always wakes up for two things; Mariko crying, and his ringtone. Haru stirs next to him, and Makoto tells him to go back to sleep as he slips out of bed and out into the hall with his phone. It’s the station’s number blinking on his screen, and he has a pretty good guess at what they want.

It’s Yui on the other end, begging him to sacrifice half his day just to cover, promising him chocolate bigger than his head because she knows he has plans and she doesn’t quiet down until Makoto laughs softly on his end and tells her he’ll be there in an hour. Makoto would have agreed outright since his plans aren’t until early evening anyway, but when he checks in on Mariko still sleeping soundly, he decides to make a deal. He’ll work today if he can get tomorrow to stay home, and Yui is happy to make the arrangement, at the cost of his promised chocolate.

It’s a sacrifice he’ll just have to make. Makoto hangs up the phone and pads silently back into his room to get dressed. He’s careful to be quiet, and doesn’t turn any lights on, but Haru still stirs and sits up. He yawns and looks at the clock by the side of the bed, and Makoto smiles regretfully at him.

“I have to go to work,” he says, “but only for a couple of hours.” Haru nods and yawns again, still not awake enough to try words. He gets to his feet and stumbles, having forgotten about his knee and Makoto second guesses himself. Haru was hobbling around okay the day before, but Makoto would still be happier if he wasn’t walking on it so much. If Makoto stayed he could keep a better eye on it, maybe..

“I’ll be fine,” Haru says. He’s a bedheaded glare from the doorway to the bathroom, but he makes Makoto feel better. Haru seeing through him was a comfort, and knowing Haru would be waiting for him after makes it easier to go at all.

Makoto closes the distance between them before Haru can close the door on him and pulls him into a hug. Haru _oofs_ against him, but Makoto feels him returning it just the same.

“I’ll be home soon,” he tells him. Haru nods and waves him off, and Makoto knows he’ll be just fine.

“Be safe,” Haru tells him. Makoto promises, just like always.

 

Haru had thought Makoto being gone most of the day would have meant he could get everything finished for their date, but he hadn’t thought of how the anticipation would build in his chest until he’s watching the hands on the clock move, each tick feeling like it has the power to decide the outcome of his entire life.

Haru’s nerves take form in hands that worry at each other, tapping and twisting and twitching, itching with the need for something to do. He’s cleaned as much as he thinks he can get away with, he’s bathed himself and Mariko, he’s got everything ready for tonight as much as he possibly can, and still, he wishes he had something to keep himself busy.

Mariko is oblivious to his suffering, happy with her toys in baby jail. Haru limps over to take her out of it, and she brings her kangaroo with her all the way back to the kotatsu. Haru settles down with her, intent on braiding what he can of her short hair, again, but she refuses to sit on his lap in favor of standing on his thighs.

Haru doesn’t even bother trying to convince her to sit. He knows a lost cause when he sees one, and he has lost this fight before. It’s not the most comfortable to have all of her weight condensed into the points her feet become, but it’s still better than sitting alone while his nerves eat him alive. He’s trying to reach over for the hair brush while trying to keep a hand on her to keep her standing when they both freeze at the sound of Makoto’s key in the door.

Haru looks to Mariko first, and their eyes lock together. The door opens and Makoto announces himself, and the spell is broken. Haru is still half laying on the table to reach the hair brush, no possible way to prevent what happens next.

 _“Macchan-”_ he warns, but she screams and slips out of his hand anyway. Haru watches her run away, her kangaroo still clutched in her hands as she disappears around the corner. She was unearthly fast for someone with as much stuffing as her favorite toys. Haru tries to get up and chase after her, but moving fast isn’t in his skillset, especially with an injured knee.

“Macchan!” Haru relaxes when he can hear Makoto laughing. She must have made it safely to him, because he can hear her babbling _Dadda_ and _Saba_ and seemingly all the other words in her growing vocabulary as he carries her back in to Haru.

Makoto smiles when he sees him. “I’m home Haru,” he says. Haru sighs. He doesn’t know how he forgets, that he has nothing to be nervous about with Makoto. Just his presence puts Haru at ease.

“Welcome back,” Haru tells him. Makoto’s smile grows. Makoto shifts his grip on Mariko in an all too familiar way and Haru whips a hand out in front of him before Makoto can finish the movement.

 _“Do not_ pick me up,” he says. Makoto freezes guiltily before offering Haru a sheepish hand up instead. Haru takes it and thinks it’s better than being hefted up like a bag of rice, and then feels guilty for thinking it. Makoto treated him much more tenderly than he would a bag of rice.

“Sorry,” Haru mumbles. Makoto quirks his head.

“What for?” Haru hasn’t let go of Makoto’s hand. Haru looks away.

“We should get going,” he says.

“Right!” Makoto lights up. “Just let me change real quick!” Haru waves him off and Makoto bounds towards the stairs. Haru can hear him go up two, three, and then back down and around the corner again. Haru looks up and Makoto kisses him on right the lips. Haru doesn’t have time to react before Makoto is pulling away. Mariko giggles as Makoto bounces her.

 _“Now_ I can change,” he says. “What should I wear? Something nice? Something casual?” The question saves Haru from fumbling after Makoto’s lips. He shrugs.

“Something comfortable. Warm,” he answers. Makoto’s eyebrows reach up towards his hair but he doesn’t ask.

“Got it,” he says. This time he runs all the way up the stairs, Mariko squealing all the way.

Haru touches his lips and lets them curve into a smile. Makoto was clearly excited, and Haru is starting to get there too. What he had planned wasn’t as extravagant as Makoto’s date had been, but it was still something he wanted to do with Makoto. In the end, that’s what he had decided mattered.

Haru can hear Makoto returning, so he does one quick look to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. His bag has been emptied and packed with supplies, and he manages to zip it shut moments before Makoto would have been able to see inside.

“Here,” Makoto says, and Haru turns back to him. Makoto holds out his coat, and Haru takes it with a nod. Haru can feel how badly Makoto wants to get going, but he still took care to bundle Mariko and himself up and worry about Haru.

Haru buttons up his coat and tries not to laugh when Makoto hands him gloves and a muffler next. That was so like him.

Makoto pouts. “It’s been snowing all day,” he says, as if Haru was going to argue the accessories. Haru shakes his head fondly.

“Trade me,” he says, gesturing at Mariko and his bag. Makoto raises an eyebrow until he actually _lifts_ Haru’s bag. Mariko weighs as much as her kangaroo plush in comparison.

“What’s _in_ here?” Makoto says. Haru’s half amused at his confusion, half annoyed at him lifting and lowering the bag with one arm like a loaf of bread. He decides to stay amused.

“Surprise,” he tells him, then heads towards the door without giving Makoto a chance to ask again. He knows Makoto won’t peek inside, and even if he did, Haru is pretty sure he wouldn’t gain any understanding from what’s packed there.

They take the truck. It’s still a little warm from Makoto driving home, but Makoto flips the knob all the way over until Mariko throws her hat off in complaint. Haru gives him directions from his phone, and since he’s still not telling Makoto what they’re doing, Makoto makes easy small talk about his day.

They make the last turn, but it isn’t until they’re pulling into a parking space that Makoto really starts to put it together.

“An animal shelter?” Haru listens, but he just hears a little curious uncertainty.

“This is the shelter we’ve been raising money for,” he explains. It wasn’t far from Sucre, and it was far better than boxes with blankets for strays. It’s something Haru is proud to be a part of, and something he wants to share with Makoto.

Makoto doesn’t ask for explanations, just smiles in gentle understanding. “Let’s go inside,” he says. Haru finds Mariko’s hat and snugs it back down on her head, and they crunch through the fresh snow into the lobby.

Haru talks to the receptionist, and as soon as they hear he’s from Sucre they’re given a complete tour. The staff knew he was coming, and no less than three people shuffle to bow low to him or take his hand at separate times to thank him for how much he and his cafe have done for their humble shelter. He tries to tell them it isn’t his cafe, that they should thank Mai, but it does little to sway them.

“You’re practically a celebrity,” Makoto coos in his ear when they get a moment alone. Haru elbows him.

“That’s not why we’re here,” he hisses back. They’ve reached the end of the tour, and a small partitioned off section of a room with a sign that says "family play room". They’re asked to wash their hands before entering, and they both help Mariko in the little sink.

Inside, they’re alone again. Makoto lets Mariko down to run over a bean bag, and Haru spots what they’d come here for in the first place. He nudges Makoto until he sees them too.

It’s the mother and her kittens from the photo Mai had given him, curled up and around each other in a plush cat bed inside a cardboard box. The room was littered with cat scratchers and beds and things to climb and explore, but they had chosen the cardboard. Haru smiles at them.

“Haru..” Makoto says, voice delicately soft. “Are these..?” Haru crouches down next to him. There’s four in total, three kittens and their mother, but none of them have woken up yet.

“Merry Christmas Makoto,” Haru says. Makoto looks at him with wonder before flinging his arms around Haru’s shoulders and dragging them both to the ground.

 _“Haru-chan!”_ Makoto says in his ear and Haru’s face tinges pink. Makoto’s holding him tight, and someone could look in and see them like this at any moment.

“Enough with that already, get off me,” he says, but not unkindly. Makoto helps him back up but keeps one of Haru’s hands in his.

“Can I really keep one?” Makoto asks. Haru smiles and fixes his hair.

“You can have all of them, if you want,” he says. He was half kidding until he sees Makoto’s face.

 _“Really?”_ Makoto’s eyes are watery again, and Haru finds himself wishing he’d brought a tissue. A questioning _mrowl_ draws their attention back, and Makoto doesn’t get a chance to cry. The mother is awake, her golden eyes watching them curiously. They were far enough back that she wasn’t alarmed by their presence, and only watches them before yawning and stretching out of bed. Makoto holds out his hand.

“Hey pretty kitty,” he says, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“They’ve been calling her Yoko,” Haru whispers.

“Yoko,” Makoto smiles around it. “Pretty name for a pretty kitty.” Yoko sniffs his fingers and rubs her cheek against them. Makoto looks at Haru like he might melt. Haru leans back and lets Makoto pet her. This was for him. Mariko chirps at him from the bean bag, and Haru joins her to watch Makoto. It’s only a moment after Haru has Mariko back in his lap that Makoto has Yoko in his arms as well, and she’s rubbing on his face like she can keep his tears at bay.

Makoto giggles when she touches her pink nose to his, and Haru’s heart beats tenderly. Makoto’s always loved cats, but his father’s allergies kept the Tachibana’s from ever having a pet with fur instead of scales. Makoto had never complained, but that was in his nature. Haru had seen it anyway, how his eyes would get wistful and dull whenever they had to leave the shrine cats and go home or to school. He had seen Makoto’s tiny dream without them having ever said a word about it. It was why he had started leaving food out for the strays when he lived in his grandmother’s house, and it was why decades later, he had started leaving food out for the strays behind Sucre.

It was for this, warm and pure moments where Makoto got to be nuzzled and loved like he deserved. Haru hugs Mariko to his chest, afraid his heart might burn right out of him. She’s watching Makoto and his newest and orangest friend, mouth gumming around the word.

“Kitty!” She guesses right and Haru kisses the top of her head. Makoto turns to her, carefully bringing Yoko closer.

“That’s right!” he says brightly. “Be _very_ gentle, okay?” Mariko stares at Yoko from Haru’s arms, and Yoko stares unblinkingly back from Makoto’s. Haru thinks they’ll be stuck at a stalemate for quite some time, when Mariko bravely touches one fluffy paw with one earthworm finger.

 _“Kitty,”_ Mariko whispers gravely, and Yoko chirps at her. Makoto pets them both.

“Very _good_ Macchan,” he says. “You’re friends now, see?” Mariko giggles and bashfully hides her face against Haru.

Makoto’s eyes aren’t watering anymore. He looks at Haru, and Haru thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. What a waste he’s been, spending all these years painting oceans and seas when he could have been painting Makoto.

“Thank you Haru,” he says, and the emotion behind it makes Haru’s stomach tighten.

“We can’t take them today, but soon,” he says. Makoto nods, and Yoko jumps out of his arms and goes back to her litter, as if she could sense the end to their visit. Makoto slowly stretches his hand out to pet her, and Yoko gives his palm a final headbutt.

“She knows,” Makoto tells him once they’re back in the truck. “She knows we’re coming back for her.” Haru tries, but he can’t quite banish the smile stuck on his face.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” Makoto says. Haru looks at him.

“It’s a beautiful thing what you’re doing, helping these animals,” Haru chews his lip.

“I just make cookies,” he says. Makoto shakes his head.

“You’re changing lives,” and then, softer, “You’re changing mine.”

Haru’s voice catches in his throat, so he clears it and says nothing. There’s nothing but the warm hum from the heater and dim, unintelligible music from the radio, and Haru only interrupts it to tell him to make another turn.

“They found Bassho,” Makoto says.

“Bassho?”

“The service dog,” Makoto answers. Haru remembers in a rush. When Makoto had smelled like ash and smoke, and had lost all the light in his eyes thinking he’d let a dog die. No wonder Makoto had been so emotional inside.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says honestly. Makoto grins back at him.

“Me too.”

 

Haru directs Makoto to a park not far from his house, and watches the curiosity come back into Makoto’s eyes. It’s still daylight out, but the street lights flicker on as they climb out of the truck to signal that they won’t have what’s left of the sunlight for long.

“Get my bag?” Haru asks, holding his hands open for Mariko. Makoto frowns and does it, still stumped. That was fine. Haru had said it was a surprise, and he meant it.

Makoto follows him. Without hesitation or question, Makoto slips a gloved hand into Haru’s and walks alongside him. Snow crunches under their feet, but it’s stopped falling from the sky for the moment. Haru leads him deeper in the park, until he the only footsteps left in the snow are their own.

“Here,” he says, and turns to take his bag from Makoto. He brushes off the seat of a park bench for his bag to sit on, and finally unzips it before Makoto’s eager eyes.

“Spray bottles?” Makoto asks. Haru grins. He untwists the top off one and drops food coloring into it. Blue blooms as it falls into the water, and Haru shakes it until the bottle is full of deep cobalt. He adjusts the nozzle until he can shoot in lines instead of mist, and hands it to Makoto.

Makoto looks at it dubiously. Haru doesn’t end his confusion, and only mixes more bottles, green and red and orange and purple, as many colors as the number of spray bottles he managed to cram in his bag. When he’s done, they have a simple rainbow to choose from, and Makoto is still in the dark.

Haru takes the blue from him, and sprays it on the snow. A faint blue line appears, and Haru does a couple more quick sprays until it looks like fish bones. Makoto watches intently, then looks back at where they’d stopped. It was a basketball court in warmer months, but today it makes a perfect, untouched canvas.

“Paint with me?” Haru’s breath hangs in the air like fog. Makoto hugs him again, but who is Haru to complain.

“You’re amazing,” Makoto says. Haru looks back at his fish bones, but he’s not particularly impressed. Makoto knocks his shoulder.

“Not because of that,” Makoto tells him, and Haru feels his face heating despite the chill.

“I brought some for Mariko too,” he says. In the side pocket, he’d stashed three tiny spray bottles he’d snagged in a travel section.

“Amazing,” Makoto repeats, shaking his head. Haru makes Mariko primary colors, and they spend the rest of the time with the sunlight showing her how to spray color into the snow.

She gets it quick enough. Haru sprays simple outlines, a cat, a house, a car, and the Tachibanas fill them in with splashes of color. Makoto tries his hand at making something, but neither Haru nor Mariko can name it.

“It’s a fire engine,” Makoto pouts. Haru laughs. He can’t help it, Makoto looks _so_ put out by it, but Haru honestly had no idea what his drawing was trying to be.

“Where are the wheels?” he asks. Makoto points.

“Here,” he says, and Haru laughs harder. “Those kind of square things?”

Makoto hits him with a snowball, and all hell breaks loose. Haru sacrifices his purple octopus to scoop into his hands and fling snow wildly back in Makoto’s direction. Makoto yelps and ducks, and Haru isn’t quite fast enough to dodge the handful of red Makoto lobs back at him. Makoto laughs at him, and Haru uses it to smash an armful of blue and orange into his face.

Even Mariko joins in, picking up snowball fighting much quicker than she had understood snow painting. Her snowballs don’t stand a chance of reaching Makoto or Haru, but she giggles and doesn’t let it get her down. She throws snow and cheers, regardless of if it reaches a target or merely plops back down on her feet. At some point, Makoto scoops her up and Haru leans his face patiently back so she can smack him with a spoonful of pink snow.

It’s dark when they collapse together. Makoto has Mariko tucked snugly under his coat with him, and there’s still a little clump of orange snow in his hair. Haru lays next to him and flicks it away. They’re both breathing hard, from running and ducking from each other’s snowballs, but just as much from laughing. Haru’s sides hurt. Makoto’s smile might actually get stuck permanently this time.

“That was so much fun,” Makoto confesses. Haru moves closer to him, until they’re lying almost like they do to sleep. He’s been numb to the cold for a while, and the thought of falling asleep with Makoto here just like this crosses his mind.

“It was,” he agrees. Makoto tugs Haru across the rest of the distance between them, and Haru happily leans against him to share his warmth.

“Look at that,” Makoto nods up to the sky, and Haru’s eyes fill with stars. The night is so clear and still that it takes Haru’s breath away. They weren’t in the city proper, and out in the middle of the park they get a surprisingly unpolluted view.

“It’s beautiful,” Haru says. He can’t remember the last time he just looked up at the stars like this.

Makoto shifts until he’s crouching over Haru, blocking out his view entirely.

 _“Haru,”_ he says. Haru think he can see the stars lingering in Makoto’s eyes, too.

“You are so much more beautiful.”

Makoto kisses him. Where Haru’s face had been cold, Makoto warms with his lips and his breath. Makoto doesn’t pull away, finally done teasing him with chaste pecks and stolen looks, but instead moves with Haru. Their mouths work in tandem, one opening the other. Haru’s eyes flutter closed when Makoto’s tongue presses in past his lips. Makoto holds himself up with one hand, but both of Haru’s are free to rise and roam through Makoto’s hair and down to his neck.

Makoto sucks his bottom lip and releases him. Haru doesn’t let him go far, chasing right after him with his mouth. He can feel Makoto smiling against him, but he doesn’t resist. Haru kisses Makoto until he can’t breathe, and they break apart only enough to fill their lungs.

“Makoto,” Haru doesn’t remember what he was going to say. All he knows is he doesn’t want this to stop, not ever.

Makoto goes to kiss him again, and Mariko pounds on his chest.

“Dadda no!” Makoto had been holding himself up with one arm because the other had been cradling Mariko in his coat, and Haru almost snorts at her peeved little face. She’s had enough of being squished between them, or maybe just enough of not being the center of attention, and she’s putting her tiny booted foot down.

Haru catches her fists before they can shove at Makoto more and kisses her forehead. The night wasn’t over yet.

“We still have dinner,” he tells Makoto. Makoto’s face scrunches in disbelief.

“There’s _more?”_ Haru nods and lets Makoto help him back to his feet. They gather up their spray bottles and dump any colored water remaining in splashes of rainbow and shove the empty bottles back into Haru’s bag. He doesn’t make Makoto carry it now that it’s so much lighter, but Makoto links their arms together on the walk back and Haru thinks that’s an acceptable compromise.

“I am kind of hungry now,” Makoto says sheepishly. “What were you thinking for dinner? I think we’ve got some squid at home..” Makoto trails off when he sees Haru’s face.

Haru is mildly offended that Makoto didn’t think he would take him to dinner on their date. Makoto certainly had. Haru would flick his forehead if he could reach it.

“Idiot,” he mutters. Makoto blinks at him. Big tall _idiot._

“We’re going out for dinner,” Haru tells him. Makoto looks concerned.

“Haru..” He stops himself from saying something about it being too expensive, but Haru knows it’s on his mind. Haru sighs.

“Just trust me?” Makoto looks at him seriously.

“You know I do,” he says.

Haru walks a little lighter after that.

 

Makoto is grinning as soon as they turn down the right street. It was hard to keep it a surprise after that. There were a couple other little family restaurants on this particular street, but they both knew there was only one destination for them. The Takagawa’s restaurant has become as much of a regular destination for Haru as it has been for Makoto. The Takagawas had adopted Haru, _good friend_ of Makoto, almost as fully as they had Makoto himself. Takagawa-san had once even pointed out a woman who had been sitting alone until Haru had politely declined.

Making a Christmas eve reservation had been absolutely nerve-wracking. But the way Makoto nearly skips to lead him inside makes it all worth it.

The little restaurant is as busy as Haru has ever seen it, but Takagawa-san had saved them their usual booth in the back. She waves them over from across the dining room. Haru takes an automatic step towards the corner where they keep the high chair before seeing it already waiting next to their table.

“Happy now?” Haru asks then once they’re seated. Makoto beams at him.

“I may need you to pinch me,” he says. Haru huffs at him. There’s a menu on the table, but neither of them move to take it. Neither of them need it. Takagawa-san doesn’t even write their order down when she takes it, just shaking her head fondly at them and pinching Mariko’s rosey cheeks.

The restaurant is full of couples, and Haru gets a thrill at being a part of one of them. He’s been to dinner with Makoto and Mariko dozens of times by now, but this still feels different, more official. This was _Christmas eve_ , this was _the_ date night of the whole year.

And Haru has Tachibana Makoto sitting across from him. Haru thinks he’s done pretty well for himself. Every Christmas eve he’s ever had has passed by unnoticed and without ceremony or meaning, but now, looking at Makoto’s hands folded loosely on the table in front of him, Haru knows it will never be like that again.

Takagawa-san comes back with their food, complete with a tiny basket of fried chicken, and they take turns alternating between eating their food or helping Mariko eat hers. Somewhere along the line it becomes less Haru’s plate and Makoto’s plate, both of them sharing with each other and the goat of a child in the high chair.

It’s nice. Half finished plates line the middle of the table with glasses of water and tea, Makoto’s ankles hooked with Haru’s under the table. When Haru finishes his water first, Makoto passes him his. It’s comfortable. It’s like they’ve always been like this, and Haru guesses that to an extent, they have.

“Mind if I interrupt ya?” Ichiro-san makes them both jump apart. He squeezes himself in Makoto’s side of the booth before either of them can answer.

“Sorry about all this ruckus,” he starts, “Busy day for us here. Should’a just come tomorrow.” Makoto shares a look with Haru while Ichiro-san is distracted by Mariko, and Haru nods to him. He’s ready.

 _“Ichiro-san,”_ Makoto says pointedly. Ichiro-san turns back to him, but he’s still holding a spoon for Mariko to eat off of.

“I’m on a _date,”_ Makoto tells him. Ichiro-san drops Mariko’s spoon and lets out a whoop that gets the attention of the entire restaurant.

“My _boy!”_ he yells, and then he’s dragging Makoto up to his feet and sloppily dancing around the tables, Ichiro-san hollering the whole time. Makoto’s blush covers his face and disappears down the collar of his shirt, but he can’t help but laugh and humor Ichiro-san as they loop back towards their table. Haru takes it back, he’s _not_ ready.

“Get up here!” Ichiro-san tugs Haru up and presses him into Makoto’s arms.

“You make an honest man out of my boy here, ya hear?” he asks, low enough that only Haru can hear him. Makoto’s blush goes down his neck, but Haru feels like _his_ probably goes down to his toes when he answers.

“I’m trying.” Ichiro-san slaps him too hard on the back and turns back to the onlookers.

“Anyone who dances gets dessert on the house!”

Haru doesn’t dance. He’s never danced, in fact. It’s a part of himself he’s made peace with, something he’s decided long ago he could go his entire life without even attempting. But one by one young couples get to their feet, the background music gets turned up, and Makoto’s hands drift from Haru’s waist to his hips.

They’re on a date. Makoto takes a step, and Haru follows him. Makoto adjusts his hands, and Haru moves his in turn. Half the restaurant is dancing and laughing, and Haru decides that being part of that side doesn’t look so bad. He looks into Makoto’s eyes and lets him lead, and Makoto swings him around gently.

Haru wonders if he could take a class. Haru wonders if Makoto has, if he actually knows how to dance or if he’s just as caught up in the moment as everyone else. Makoto pulls them close until their bodies are pressed together, and Haru thinks he’s been a fool for not appreciating dance sooner.

The song ends and blares right on into the next one, but Makoto takes a step away from Haru and leads him back to their booth. Ichiro-san gives up his seat with Mariko and claps Makoto’s shoulder before giving them back their privacy.

“I never thought I’d be going dancing with you tonight,” Makoto grins. Haru smiles.

“Me neither.” They watch the rest of the couples dancing and Haru snorts.

“He’s got a lot of dessert to make,” he comments. Makoto breaks into a real laugh.

“Maybe we should leave before he tries to rope you into helping,” he says. Haru shrugs.

“I don’t mind helping,” he says. Makoto’s gaze shifts then, and Haru fights off a shiver.

“I want to keep you all to myself tonight,” Makoto tells him. Haru’s throat goes dry. He wants that too, very much so.

“I’ll get the check.”

 

For as long as Haru can remember, people have told him he was built for the water. When he was a child, he had always been secretly proud of that. He isn’t lying when he says water was his first love, and it had never been just water to him. It was a force he was happy to be identified with. Sometimes, it felt like a way for the water to love him back, when people said he was meant for it, built for it.

Makoto opens the passenger door and takes Haru’s hand to help him down like a prince from a carriage, and Haru thinks all those people and all those years had missed their mark. Ever since their dance, Makoto hasn’t stopped touching him. Holding his hand to help him up or down, a touch to the small of Haru’s back to guide him, brushing snow out of his hair, even just letting their hands tangle together on the seat while Makoto drives them home. Little things, but drop by drop they make the ocean inside Haru threaten to overflow with how alive and attuned he is to them.

He wasn’t made for water half as well as he was made for Makoto. That’s what it feels like. They weren’t rushing, but they were steadily thundering closer and closer to the moment where they’ll dismiss the rest of the world in favor of delving into only each other. Makoto can’t stop touching him because he’s the same as Haru. They both want this, and they’ve been waiting long enough.

But first, there’s Mariko. They go to her room first so Haru can pick out pajamas for her while Makoto changes her for the night. Together, they tell her goodnight and put her to bed. She’s barely awake for all of it, but Haru makes sure to tuck her kangaroo in with her. He doesn’t want her to wake up without it and cry. They watch her settle and fall asleep, and Haru leans back against Makoto.

“Take me to bed,” he says. There’s the familiar but still disorienting feeling when Makoto picks him up, and Haru tucks his head against Makoto’s neck.

“I thought you hated being carried,” Makoto says, amused. Haru kisses his neck in apology.

“Don’t hate it,” he mumbles. He doesn’t. It’s Makoto, he couldn’t possibly hate something Makoto does, especially when he does it out of love and concern.

“Hate feeling _weak,”_ he says. Makoto somehow reaches Haru’s face and tilts it to look Makoto in the eyes.

“I have _never_ thought of you as weak,” he says. He means it. His eyes are open and earnest. Instead of overflowing, Haru digs his ocean deeper. Makoto had seen him as a broken wreck and still has as much faith in him as he had when they were kids. He doesn’t think Haru is weak now, and he didn’t think Haru was weak then.

 _“Makoto,”_ he says, searching.

Makoto kisses him. Haru breathes it in. Makoto was his answer, Makoto was always his answer. He doesn’t notice that they’ve made it into Makoto’s room, all he knows is he’s safe in Makoto’s arms, wanted with Makoto’s mouth on his, loved with how hard Makoto’s heart is beating under Haru’s palm.  

“I want you,” Haru says between gasps. “Makoto, I _want_ you.” Makoto presses him back down into the mattress, barely breaking their kiss to answer.

“You have me.” Makoto hovers over him and leans into Haru’s hand when Haru reaches out to him.

“You _have_ me. Let me prove it to you.”

Makoto goes slow. He kisses Haru’s mouth until he’s short of breath, and burns trails down Haru’s neck. Haru can barely even register that Makoto’s hands are working on the buttons of Haru’s shirt the same time his mouth is ghosting over the shell of Haru’s ear and down his earlobe. Makoto’s hands are warm and welcome across Haru’s skin, and he swallows a little moan at the way they roam over him under his shirt before Makoto shrugs it down over his shoulders.

Makoto switches back to kissing, from behind his ear, down his throat, over his pulse in his neck, and finally down onto Haru’s shoulder. Makoto’s teeth nip at Haru’s bare shoulder and make him gasp and tangle his hands in Makoto’s hair. Makoto bites at him then licks over it.

Haru’s head is already going fuzzy. Makoto’s hands brush over his nipples and Haru has to bite back another little moan. He’s trying to hold himself back, but it’s an uphill battle. Makoto rubs at him with a thumb the same time he sucks a spot on Haru’s neck and Haru throws a hand over his mouth to muffle the moan that escapes him.

“Don’t,” Makoto says, voice low in Haru’s ear. It shoots straight through him and down into Haru’s groin.

“I want you too,” he says. Haru can feel his lips moving against Haru’s neck when he speaks.

“I’ve wanted you, for _so_ long Haru. So don’t,” Makoto’s hands dip lower, dancing over Haru’s ribs and down to his hips, and it’s not enough.

“Don’t hold yourself back from me.” Haru swallows roughly.

 _“Makoto.”_ It comes out like a moan, but Makoto understands. He kisses down Haru’s sternum while his hands work on Haru’s belt, achingly slow. Haru is never wearing a belt again.

Makoto’s mouth covers a pert nipple and sucks it in between his teeth and Haru’s mind goes blank. His whole body flinches against the sensation, but Makoto’s hands hold him in place. Makoto sucks again, and his thumbs dig into Haru’s hips when he tries to buck.

Makoto takes his time. He licks and tugs at one nipple with his teeth and teases and pinches the other with his hands, and Haru can only writhe against him. Haru had no idea he liked being played with like this, but he’s hard and aching, and there’s no denying it.

Makoto lets up and Haru thinks he’s giving him a chance to catch his breath, but it’s only so Makoto can slip Haru’s pants down to his thighs and palm over his underwear. Makoto pushes against him, and Haru can feel that there’s already a damp spot on the fabric. Haru tries to shove his pants off the rest of the way, but Makoto grinds the heel of his hand down and bats Haru’s hands away.

Haru whines in frustration, but Makoto only smiles down at him. Haru wants him to hurry up, but he knows Makoto has other plans. Haru grinds his hips up, pushing himself against Makoto’s hand insistently, and Makoto only smiles wider at him.

“We have all night,” he reminds Haru, but he concedes a little by tugging Haru’s pants down and off. Makoto rolls his hand over Haru’s erection and Haru’s breathing hitches again. He doesn’t know how Makoto does it, if it had been up to Haru, he would have stripped his clothes off with his usual speed and not thought a thing about it. But Makoto takes it so achingly slow, building Haru up for each piece to finally be peeled away. Makoto takes his clothes off him like opening a precious gift, and Haru doesn’t know how much more he can handle.

Makoto breaks eye contact to lean back down against Haru’s skin, and Haru braces himself, knowing the only direction Makoto has to move is down. Makoto’s breath heats Haru’s chest, his hips, and Haru chews on his thumb. Makoto presses down in an open mouthed kiss over Haru’s tip through his briefs, and Haru bucks under him. It was _so close,_ but _still_ not enough.

Makoto mouths at him and Haru can feel his briefs getting damper and damper. Soft sounds are leaving him without his permission now, but Makoto returns them when Haru’s fingers spread in Makoto’s hair and scrape dully at his scalp.

Too soon, Makoto moves away, leaving Haru panting and gasping. Makoto kisses the inside of his thigh, and Haru spreads his legs unconsciously so Makoto can keep going. Makoto’s hands map each and every inch of his legs, from the jut of his hips down to the tips of his toes, Makoto’s hands and mouth cover all of him. Makoto pays attention to his knee, trailing his fingers down over the tape with less pressure than butterflies landing before kissing it just as gently. He gets to Haru’s ankles and kisses them too. Makoto holds Haru’s feet in his hands and presses his lips to the tops of them, then moves back up.

Haru feels like he’s being undone. Every press of Makoto’s lips or pads of his fingers is a silent love song, and Haru doesn’t think he’ll ever hear anything else ever again. Makoto had asked to let him prove himself to Haru, and he was a man of his word. Makoto was achingly tender with him, like Haru was something to be loved and worshipped.

“You are,” Makoto says, bringing Haru back into the moment, _“So_ beautiful.”

Haru’s eyes burn and sting. He holds his hands out towards Makoto, calling him back in, and Makoto comes to him with another searing kiss. Haru’s swimming is the only part of him that’s ever been called beautiful, and Haru can feel tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes even as he’s desperately trying to go deeper into Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto wipes at his tears with a thumb and kisses him deeper. He sees Haru how he always has, for Haru. Just Haru.

Makoto’s other hand finally pushes itself down under Haru’s waistband and wraps around Haru’s aching cock, and Haru moans into their kiss because, _yes, finally, please._

“Easy,” Makoto says, stroking Haru leisurely, as if he hadn’t just spent an intimate eternity working over Haru’s body. “I’ve got you. You can stop me if you want.” Haru doesn’t trust his voice, so he shakes his head against Makoto’s neck. Makoto smiles and brushes the rest of his tears away.

He sits back against his thighs, and Haru would whine at the loss of contact but Makoto is stripping his own clothes off at long last. Haru watches, but Makoto takes none of the care with himself that he had lavished on Haru. His shirt gets pulled up and over his head and falls crumpled somewhere off the bed, then he’s sitting up to unzip his pants and step out of them.

Makoto leans back over him, and now there’s _skin._ Makoto’s skin is somehow always warmer. Haru isn’t cold, but he runs his hands over whatever part of Makoto he can reach like he was fighting frostbite. Makoto hums at Haru’s touch and licks into his mouth. His hands wrap around Haru’s cock again and pump, and Makoto has to swallow Haru’s moan.

This time, Makoto doesn’t slow down or let him go. Makoto squeezes him until he finds the right pressure when Haru moans and writhes, then starts moving faster. Haru takes his hands off Makoto’s back to try and reach down between them, knowing Makoto has to be as painfully hard as he is, but Makoto flicks at one of Haru’s sensitive nipples with his tongue and thoughts fizzle out of Haru’s head with a tiny yelp.

“I’ll teach you, what you tried to do the other night,” Makoto says, sharp nips to Haru’s neck punctuating between each word . Haru doesn’t remember what he tried to do the other night. Haru doesn’t remember the other night. But it’s Makoto, and he wants whatever Makoto is willing to give him.

“Yes,” Haru pants, and Makoto rewards him by kissing the inside of his wrist. Haru can’t tell when Makoto takes one hand off him to reach inside his nightstand, and he’s only dimly aware of the faint click that would be his only clue to what Makoto is planning. All Haru knows is that suddenly Makoto’s hands glide smoothly over his cock and it’s impossible but it’s even better than it was before.

 _“Yes,”_ Haru hisses, and Makoto chuckles at him.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” he hums. He’s still stroking Haru steadily, making Haru pant and twist with the effort to not thrust up into his hands.

“Liar,” he says. Makoto laughs against his ribs, kissing his way back down. When Makoto gets to Haru’s hips, Haru holds his breath. When Makoto’s breath flutters over the tip of Haru’s cock, Haru forcibly exhales. Makoto shifts until he’s between Haru’s legs, and Haru barely gets a moment to look down at him before he’s wrapping his lips around Haru and pressing down.

Haru moans without reserve, the heat of Makoto’s mouth and eyes on Haru too much for him to bare. Makoto presses his tongue along the underside of Haru’s cock as he works it deeper into his throat, and Haru clenches Makoto’s hair with his hands. Makoto has more planned though, and his palms press against the inside of Haru’s thighs to part them even as he sucks and licks at Haru’s cock. Makoto grips Haru’s ass and pulls him up into Makoto’s mouth. Haru’s almost shaking from holding himself back now, but he refuses to choke Makoto, even on accident.

Makoto presses a finger gently against Haru’s entrance and Haru stills. It comes flooding back to him then, and he knows what Makoto wants to do, what he’s asking permission for. Makoto doesn’t move his finger, patiently waiting for Haru to give him a sign. Haru tugs at his hair.

“ _Makoto,_ just,” Haru can’t make a sentence. Makoto swallows around him and Haru can feel his throat flex and constrict. Makoto would never hurt him. “Do it.” Makoto lifts his head, dragging his tongue lewdly all the way up until Haru’s cock bobs free.

“Relax,” Makoto tells him. “Remember to breathe.” Haru tugs at him insistently, not wanting a tutorial.

“Haru-chan,” Makoto says, and Haru finally looks back down, intent on scolding him for the nickname, but Makoto’s wicked grin stops the words in his throat.

“You can move all you want,” Makoto says, and swallows him whole. Haru keens, finally letting himself thrust shallowly up into Makoto’s mouth. Makoto’s finger pushes inside, and it’s such a foreign intrusion that at first, Haru doesn’t know how to react. Makoto hums, and it startles Haru back into breathing. _Oh. That’s_ what Makoto had meant.

Makoto turns his focus back to sucking Haru off to give Haru a chance to adjust. His hands roam through Makoto’s hair when he doesn’t know what to do with them, and it’s the only part of Makoto he can reach. It doesn’t _hurt,_ but it’s.. new. It’s a stretch he’s never felt before. Haru starts to relax, and Makoto pushes the rest of his finger inside.

Haru’s hips jerk. His reflex is to get away, but again, Makoto works him with his mouth and Haru’s breaths come more evenly and easier as the seconds tick on. Makoto drags his finger until it’s nearly out and then back in just as slowly, and Haru sees stars behind his eyes.

Makoto was _fingering_ him, and the thought makes his hips stutter. Makoto’s finger was slicked liberally, but the friction from moving in and out has Haru biting his lip. Combine it with Makoto’s wicked tongue, and Haru had nearly come _embarrassingly_ early.

Haru hears the cap this time, and a second later Makoto’s finger moves easier, but Haru can feel a second one pushing at his entrance. He doesn’t know how _one_ fits, let alone two, but Makoto makes it happen. Haru gets used to the stretch, and even starts to thrust his hips again. It gives him the amazing ability to fuck into Makoto’s mouth and _be_ fucked on Makoto’s fingers all in the same motion, and Haru whimpers at how good it feels.

Makoto crooks his finger and hits something just _so,_ and Haru barks out a yell. _That_ had nearly made him come. Makoto does it again, and Haru doesn’t recognize himself in the high pitched whimpers he starts making.

Makoto sets a rhythm, pumping his fingers into Haru in time with bobbing his head down over his cock, and Haru knows he doesn’t stand a chance. He’s being filled and touched and licked and sucked and it’s too good, it’s too much. It’s not pushing him to the edge, it’s launching him over it.

“Ma-koto,” he pants, because it’d be impossible for him to breathe normally like this, “I’m gonna..” Makoto slides off him and replaces his mouth with his hand.

“It’s okay,” Makoto says, and Haru shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “With you.” Makoto’s fingers slow to a crawl, and Haru feels like he can finally form a cohesive thought.

“I want to,” he says, and raises his hips for good measure. “I’m ready.”

“Haru-chan..” Makoto’s voice is so full of reverence that Haru almost laughs. Only Makoto could sound like that while he has his fingers _inside someone._

“Stop with the chan already,” he says. Makoto pulls his fingers out slowly, but Haru still hisses at their absence. He misses the weight of them. Makoto kisses him, and Haru sighs into it.

When Makoto comes back, he’s got a little foil packet in his hands.

“You’re sure about this?” Makoto asks. Haru reaches out, and this time he can touch Makoto. His cock is already slick and dripping with precum, and Haru doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without touching himself. Haru strokes it, but he’s lost the strength in his arms sometime between being ravished and now.

“With Makoto,” he says sternly, leaving no room for arguments. Makoto rips open the packet. Haru watches with half-lidded eyes as Makoto rolls the condom on, then there’s more lube on fingers and hands, and Makoto kissing him as he lays him back down.

“Breathe,” Makoto murmurs, before kissing him and making the advice worthless. Haru does his best. Makoto pushes his fingers back inside and is met with minimal resistance. Haru practically mewls at him.

Makoto pumps his fingers, and Haru sees colors kaleidoscope behind his eyes every time Makoto crooks them just _so_ and hits that spot. He knows he’s being worked open, deeper and deeper, knows he’s being carefully prepared for what's next. What Haru doesn’t know, is if Makoto is hitting that spot on purpose, not until he starts hitting it with every thrust. Haru feels like he’ll shake apart long before Makoto can join him. Makoto would take all night if it meant not hurting Haru, but Haru won’t last that long.

Having to give up now that they’ve come this far would hurt Haru more than anything physical, so Haru reaches until Makoto takes his hand, and drags Makoto’s face back in. It’s hard to focus, but Haru cups Makoto’s face and brings their foreheads together, and Makoto pulls out just enough to let Haru catch his breath.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” he repeats it like a mantra. Makoto needs the reassurance, based on how he leans into Haru’s hands.

“I want to make sure, I’m kind of…”

“Gigantic,” Haru says. He’s trying for deadpan, but it comes out breathy. _“Stupidly_ big.”

 _“Haru,”_ Makoto whines, but Haru nips at him for quiet.

“Makoto.” Makoto exhales against him, but a moment later nods and breaks them apart with another kiss. He has the dignity to at least not tell Haru to _breathe_ or _relax_ again as he lines himself up. Makoto’s fingers leave him and Haru groans, wanting them back.

Makoto pushes the tip of his cock against Haru’s entrance and Haru sucks in a sharp breath. It is _stupidly_ , _gigantically_ big, and there’s a moment where Haru doesn’t think it could possibly fit.

Makoto reaches for Haru’s hand, and Haru takes it. They both needed it, and it helps both of them relax. They’re ready.

Makoto pushes forward. Haru would have yelled, but the fullness takes his breath away and all that comes out is a high pitched keening. Makoto waits with the patience of a saint, barely more than the tip pressed inside Haru. Haru’s entire body flashes hot at the stretch, but he can handle it. Makoto had made sure of it.

“More,” Haru swallows, and Makoto presses inside in increments. Haru pants like he’s running a marathon, even though one of Makoto’s hands is on his hip to hold him steady in place.

 _“Fuck,”_ Haru moans. Makoto was _so big._ He’s not even all the way inside yet and Haru feels _so full._

“Haru, I’m- _Haru-chan,”_ Makoto is just as needy as Haru is. Haru’s nodding for him to keep going, he doesn’t need to hear what Makoto was trying to say. He knows. Makoto squeezes his hand and grits his teeth. Makoto pushes himself the rest of the way in in one heavy, slow motion. Makoto doesn’t have to tell him that he’s all the way inside, Haru can feel it. He feels like he’s being split in two in the most satisfying of ways, and Makoto brushes his bangs back from his face while Haru whimpers and tries to adjust.

The rest of Makoto goes still, and Haru squeezes his eyes shut before they water and leak. Haru can hear them breathing together, inhales and exhales in synch with another. He wonders if their heartbeats are the same too. The only proof of time passing is in the feather light strokes from Makoto’s fingertips on Haru’s face. When Haru opens his eyes his hands are as weightless as light.

No, that’s not right. Haru’s hands feel the same kind of weightless they do when he’s in the water. They float on their own, always seeking something ahead of him. Most of the time, he has no idea what they’re searching for.

But now, they caress Makoto’s bare chest, rain down from his heart to his hips, and they’ve found their long-sought treasure.

It’s allowed, somehow, _impossibly,_ for Haru to have this. This, a quiet moment in the dead of night, warm in Makoto’s bed, in Makoto’s home, in Haru’s heart, all despite the frigid and unending snow covering everything outside these walls.

Makoto doesn’t move except to breathe and sigh into a smile at Haru’s touch. Haru’s eyes settle their roaming on Makoto’s mouth, curved up just to tease teeth, but they don’t part enough to allow speech.

It would have been unnecessary. Haru and Makoto have rarely needed words to communicate across their entire lives, and they certainly didn’t need it here and now.

It was carved in the cord of Makoto’s arms, one taut where it grips the sheets, disappearing in white knuckles and soft grey cotton. The other arm, soft and gentle, hand feather light where it’s fingers lovingly trace soothing nonsense into the skin of Haru’s side.

It was breathed from his lungs, heaving greatly despite the stillness. Swimmer’s lungs, like Haru’s, ready to be put to good use as soon as Makoto moved and asked it of them.

It was painted on his face, the smile slight and familiar, and completely, _utterly_ unguarded. It was a boy’s smile, transplanted on the man Makoto had grown into. Shy in the way you can only be when you know acceptance is yours unconditionally. His eyes were filled with a wonder Haru doesn’t quite think he deserves, but being with Makoto makes him believe he might be able to earn it anyway.

So no, there’s no words exchanged between them, but Haru hears it anyway, how much Makoto loves him. He had thought doing this, crossing this final point of no return, would be giving every inch of himself to Makoto, and he had been ready to deposit himself neatly into Makoto’s capable and trustworthy hands.

Haru hadn’t even considered that the opposite could be true as well. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, not because the pressure is too much, but because the pressure is _exquisite_ . Makoto was, in a way only the two of them could understand, giving him all he had to offer, and he was doing it with a smile. Haru doesn’t think his hands are half as reliable as Makoto’s, but he wants them to be so, _so_ badly. Even if his fingers rip and tear off, he’ll hold on to what he’s fought so hard to recover with all he has.

He’s finally got his Makoto back, and he’s going to cling to him for as long as he has blood in his veins. Makoto’s smile softens, understanding. With great effort, he leans down, brushes Haru’s hair out of the way and kisses Haru’s forehead. Haru laughs so he doesn’t sob. The tears come anyway. His hands don’t move move to wipe them away, but to Makoto’s neck, hair, back, anything they can reach. Makoto releases the sheets in exchange for Haru’s cheek, and turns his face up for a proper kiss.

Haru melts under it. It’s more than relaxing when he didn’t know he was tense to begin with, which was also true. It was deeper, somehow. It’s his blood pumping. It’s his bones settling. It’s his tongue and Makoto’s fitting together like they were made for it. It’s Haru’s legs reforming from the mess he’s been into firm muscle and sinew, and wrapping themselves hungrily around Makoto’s waist. It’s goosebumps across his skin when Makoto moves, despite it being as warm as sweet summer’s wind, hot skin slick against hot skin. It’s Haru moaning into Makoto’s mouth, giving him permission he’s never had to ask for. It’s Makoto breathing in his ear, asking anyway.

And when Makoto moves with a force, it’s this: two souls who had been singing off tune and alone for so long, only to find out when they join together it becomes a seamless, perfect duet. It’s as much as Haru thinks he’s been made for Makoto, Makoto has been made for Haru, too.

The sound of each other’s moans and names drowns out everything else, and Haru knows he won’t last. Makoto throbs inside him, and Haru clings to whatever part of Makoto he can. Makoto thrusts so deep inside him that Haru sees stars bursting behind his eyelids.

“Haru, I love you,” Makoto moans out, and Haru whimpers. Makoto keeps going.

“I love you so much, _Haruka.”_

Haru comes harder than he has in his whole life, spewing nonsense that sounds like Makoto’s name. Makoto is right there with him, biting down his own moans only moments after Haru.

When Haru’s vision returns, the first thing he can see is Makoto collapsed half on him and half on the bed. He’s still recovering, but so is Haru. Haru had missed the moment when Makoto had pulled out, somehow, and he’s a little disappointed that Makoto had done it so soon. Haru presses himself up against Makoto’s skin, feeling too far away now that they’re back to two separate bodies. Makoto wraps Haru in his arms and kisses his forehead, and that’s when it all swiftly becomes real and overpowering.

“I love you too.” Haru says it, barely more than his voice leaving his throat. Makoto stirs, but he’s too slow to stop the tears from filling Haru’s eyes as more words come tumbling out.

“Makoto I- I love you too, I’ve loved you for _so long,”_ Haru’s barely above sobbing now, but it’s a cathartic release. Makoto holds him as delicately as if he was made from spun glass, wonder and adoration painted over his face. Makoto cups Haru’s face and wipes away his tears. Haru covers Makoto’s hands with his own, trying to focus even though his vision is swimming.

“I love you Makoto. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“Oh _Haru,”_ Makoto’s voice breaks, and it makes Haru huff out a little laugh. Makoto hugs him tighter, kissing his eyelids and washing away the tear tracks down his face. “I can’t believe I’m this lucky.”

“Stupid,” Haru chokes back, hugging Makoto as tight as he can and wishing it was tighter. “I’m the lucky one.”

“Say it again?” Makoto says hopefully. Haru turns in against his neck, but doesn’t hesitate.

“I love you.” Makoto laughs and rolls them until Haru is on top of him, but Makoto keeps laughing.

“Hey-” Haru starts but Makoto opens his eyes and Haru forgets everything else.

“Again?” Haru frowns.

“Don’t be spoiled,” he says.

“Haven’t I always been spoiled by Haru-chan though?” Makoto snickers.

Haru pushes at him weakly. This was _exactly_ why you don’t spoil people. Makoto laughs and relaxes his arms to give him some space.

“Haru,” his smile is brilliant. “Come here?”

Haru huffs, but there isn’t a way he could ever turn down an invitation like that. Haru settles himself in on Makoto, finally resting his head on Makoto’s chest. Makoto’s heartbeat is a steady tide and Haru lets it wash over him. He could sleep like this, drift away and just enjoy the warmth of Makoto’s arms.

Makoto snores faintly, asleep as soon as Haru had made himself comfortable. Haru falls asleep in his arms with a smile on his face.

 

At breakfast the next morning, Makoto sets a soft paper package on the table next to Haru’s juice and eggs. Haru eyes it suspiciously while Makoto goes back to the kitchen for coffee.

“What is this?” Haru calls after him. Makoto comes back around the corner, steaming mug in his hands and easy smile on his face. They had enjoyed a rare morning of sleeping in together, until Mariko had demanded their attention and food. Haru and her had moved to the kotatsu while Makoto made them brunch, and Haru finds Makoto in loose pajama bottoms and unbrushed hair unfairly charming.

“It’s your gift,” Makoto answers. “I didn’t get a chance to give it to you last night.”

Haru wonders if he wants to rephrase that, but doesn’t ask. He shifts delicately on the pillow Makoto had provided for him and slides the package in front of him. Makoto sits down next to him and puts his chin on Haru’s shoulder to watch him open it.

Haru pulls the ribbon loose to find the paper only carefully folded around what’s inside. It falls away like leaves in autumn, leaving only the familiar stretchy fabric underneath in his hands.

“Jammers?” Makoto nods against him.

“A few of your pairs have holes in them,” Makoto says gently. “And they don’t fit you right anymore anyway.” Haru frowns, but he can’t really deny it. He still has the same jammers from high school. Haru unfolds them, holding them up to get a good look at the emerald and sapphire striping up the sides when something slim and hard falls out onto the table.

It’s a plastic card, and when Haru picks it up he sees his own face looking back up at him. He flips it over to see the name and logo of Makoto’s pool. He looks back to Makoto, but Makoto is sipping his coffee innocently.

“Membership,” he says simply. “You can swim whenever you want, as long as the pool isn’t booked.” Haru looks back at his new jammers, already itching to try them on and then try them out in the pool. Makoto winces next to him.

“Sorry, I got them before you hurt your knee, I probably should have gotten you something else..”

“I love it,” Haru says. Makoto lifts his chin to look at him. “Thank you.”

“You still can’t swim yet,” Makoto says sadly. Haru looks at his jammers, and folds them back neatly. He doesn’t feel like he’s giving up, but he also doesn’t feel like he needs to fight to swim either. He _wants_ to swim, of course, but it doesn’t feel like he’ll unravel if he doesn’t anymore.

“I can wait,” he says. Makoto kisses his temple.

“I have something for you too,” Haru says. Makoto blinks at him.

“Cats and all of last night wasn’t enough?” he jokes. Haru shakes his head.

“No. It’s in that box over there,” Haru points to the box with his sketchbooks, and Makoto dutifully gets up and retrieves it for him. Haru digs through until he picks up a slim wrapped package of his own. Makoto takes it from him carefully.

“It’s for Macchan too,” Haru says. Makoto relaxes into a smile at that, more comfortable accepting gifts for her than for himself. Makoto lifts her up and into his lap so she can help open it, and Haru sips at his juice.

It’s a children’s book, one Haru has gotten to know inside and out over the last few weeks. Makoto can’t tell yet, but he’s excited by the book on its own.

“Look Macchan, that’s a starfish,” he says. Mariko is appropriately impressed. Makoto opens the cover, but he stops before he even gets to the first page of the story.

The author’s signature sits primly on the inside cover, right next to Haru’s. Makoto looks at the signatures and then back to the cover.

“Haru?” he can’t believe it, but then again, six months ago Haru wouldn’t have believed it either.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “I painted the illustrations.” Makoto holds the book with renewed devotion.

“Haru, this is amazing,” he says. Haru tries to shrug it off, but Makoto makes it difficult.

“This is _gorgeous,”_ he says. Haru aggressively eats his eggs. Mariko paws at Makoto impatiently, wanting to either be read to or set free. Makoto pauses his admirations to frown at her.

“Is this in stores?” he asks Haru.

“I think so. Why?” Makoto closes the book and carefully sets it aside. He distracts Mariko from pouting with a piece of egg off his plate, and looks to Haru.

“After we eat, let’s go shopping?” he offers.

“Why?” Haru repeats. Makoto grins defensively at him.

“Macchan is _mostly_ over her phase of trying to eat everything she touches, but she’s ruined books before. I don’t want to take the chance with yours,” he explains. Haru looks at Macchan. She’s finished her bite of egg and is gumming on Makoto’s finger, and it’s not the most innocent look she could have.

“And,” Makoto adds, “We can look for a brace for your knee.”

“I already know how to tape it,” Haru tells him. Makoto nods quickly.

“I know but, if we get a brace, I’ll let you in the pool, at least for a little bit.”

Haru closes his mouth. He had meant it earlier when he said he could wait, but that’s when he thought he didn’t have any choice. Without the choice, it was just an inevitability. But if all he needed to swim again was a knee brace…

Makoto laughs and Haru snaps out of it. He takes Haru’s hand to lean in and kiss him again, and Haru lets it mollify him.

“Say it again?” Makoto coos. Haru huffs into Makoto’s hair.

_“Spoiled.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY :D

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first time writing fic- sorry! me and a good friend have been tossing 'single dad makoto reuniting with haru' ideas back and forth for the last few days and this happened u_u anyway! thanks for reading.


End file.
